asleep in your deep wing.
deep in your sleeping wings.

the spectacle of self
the spectral self
the spectre of self
the spectrum of the self

shedding self into collective
shedding self into otherness
the loss of self in the glorious miasma of a pluralised vitality.

starving out state governments.
controlling discourse.
manufactoruing and rationing the issues.
the media's voluntary selfcensorship.
Democracy: LEAD MY SHEEP.
I say, a capital idea old chap!
be still my beating dollarsign.

swim moon. swim moon. that's what i meant to write.

there is really no need to panic that I am not in Novation with words so much these days. because i will be yet. and i was.

i was reading old angelfire dollyshot and inspecting my old theories of the soul. i think i have changed. i went on and on then about the soul having no unity. whereas i recall talking to someone, perhaps more than one person, this year, how i was having trouble holding to my usual belief that the soul is a perishable material thing. it seems to me impossible to grasp how my, apparently just now very unitary and cohesive, mind, could be written down in molecules. but then, that is just the limitations of my particular set of molecules, right?

i think just now i have too strong a grasp of syntax.

english school award ceremony at woolley today. my supervisor came he never goes to those things, for me, which was lovely, and magsy was lovely, all lovely, and i didn't feel sad. the prizereading dragged on forever though. the different departments each trying to outdo the other in longwinded explications of donor rationale and prizewinners' bios.

my suupervisor told me last year that at my high school, at the open day, they have a little shrine to me.

I DESERVE IT.
I DESERVE A MONUMENT.
A DUMUMENT.
A HUMUMENT.

Went to the CPA website and read their general 'who we are' info. They were not going on about the redistribution of property. The focus was on public enterprise. Very similar to the things I advocate. I was pleasantly surprised. But history always troubles us, my mind backbiting. And backbitten, I stared at the screen, having doubts. I don't want to have doubts. For once I want to throw myself headlong into something with open wings screaming "this, this" screaming "I have lost myself in this, in us, this is us and so am I." Bleeding self into other, into whole. Summarysubstancesubsumption. The elation of sublation. elasublation yes oh yes oh yes. When life like a kiss attains the condition of orgasm. When you can walk up to a pretty dogma on the street and say "fuck me fuck yourself oh yes."

Marx and Lenin, said my supervisor, you know - they were all lawyers.

It's so true.

I was thinking at the Flood St Parra Rd crossing the other day, at what point did I realise what a hypocrisy my life is? Must it be? Yes, it must be. Let be.
Watchdog: What was that?
Hypocrite: Let be.
Watchdog: Quietist bullshit. Smash something!
Hypocriste: Let be.

My soul wrestling in its jelly.Oh (as I once said) oh if only there were time.

And I quote myself. Myself myself myself. Oh fuck, am I still here?
Smashmouth: Are you still here?
Hypocrite: Yes, still breathing.
Smashmouth: Still breathing out there?
Hypocrite: Ay ay.
Is that you, Sashmo?

If I could dissapear into a gesture. If I could really be Swagger or Sashay. Or a rhythm. Cuban driven dissapearing frenetic kinetic frenekinetic. Freak beauty falling star falling over heated blue bleating rising gaze shooting prayer star falling spindeep driving flight.