It's all fiction.

This project began back in 2008 when - under the logic of Harry Matthews - I began writing twenty sentences a day. I wanted to see what would happen. Later, the project morphed into paragraphs (as the sentences had acquired their own energy and wanted a new container), and later yet into essays (which are basically sequenced paragraphs). Lately I have begun writing exposition, which is just formal thinking out loud about the specific - this local - process of writing.

The project has seen a lot of permutations and patches over the years. It's been taken down and put back up, move to this domain and that. Fractures and seams abound. Loose threads are its underlying logic. This is an inevitable consequence of my commitment to being committed not to the object made but to the making itself. You have to be willing to give up everything.

Limping, staggering, dissembling, prevaricating. Swearing at and swearing off, cherishing and debasing . . .

One writes. And writes. And writes.

I am prone to drama, especially religious drama in a Christian vein. I often wish it were otherwise. But we tend the garden we're given, and the harvest is what the harvest is. I try to be a bit more responsible with my spiritual posturing here. On twitter I write shorter poems, sometimes in formal modes cobbled from other cultures. And I play very ineptly with the nexus between image and my preferred spiritual text, which is still A Course in Miracles, here.

Thank you for reading. 

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