Some Time. Some Life. p e r f o r a t i o n s 22 "Perfect Cattle-Bears Which Occur in Large Lakes"* "The easy possibility of letter-writing must -- seen merely theoretically -- have brought into the world a terrible disintegration of souls. It is, in fact, an intercourse with ghosts, and not only with the ghost of the recipient, but also with one's own ghost which develops between the lines of the letter one is writing and even more so in a series of letters where one corroborates the other and can refer to it as a witness. How on earth did anyone get the idea that people could communicate by letter! Of a distant person one can think, and of a person who is near one can catch hold -- all else goes beyond human strength. Writing letters, however, means to denude oneself before the ghosts, something for which they greedily wait. Written kisses don't reach their destination, rather they are drunk on the way by the ghosts. It is on this ample nourishment that they multiply so enormously. Humanity senses this and fights against it in order to eliminate as far as possible the ghostly element between people and create a natural communication, the peace of souls, it has invented the railway, the motorcar, the aeroplane. But it's no longer any good, these are evidently inventions being made at the moment of crashing. The opposing side is so much calmer and stronger; after the postal service it has invented the telegraph, the telephone, the radiograph. The ghosts won't starve, but we will perish."Franz Kafka, from Letters To Milena 11.16 I'm feeling a little regretful--and ill at ease--at having announced this journal issue. For one thing, it makes me realize how opaque my own emotional state has been throughout my own journal keeping. I've gone though many journals and i have found very few men's journals that explore their `feelings' (I hear groans from certain people at this very instant) with any alacrity or depth. (..not saying they aren't out there...). And for another thing, there just aren't that many journals being KEPT by men. (O.K., .if it makes you guys feel better, let's say diffculty in exploring certain `phenomenological boundary states'.) There's also a kind of `mass demographic' thinking that rides along with this thing. But I'm not trying to encyclopedize `journals on the web'. I have to keep in mind that I'm searching for a very particular style, approach, continuity. The unease I feel comes from a sort of fractal depth it feels like I'm falling into with this, an infinite regress of sorts, Robert-through-the-Looking-Glass. I feel like I'm falling into myself in some odd way with some of these writings. For sure, it's the recombinant power of language itself to mirror us back, even from the most distant shore--comforting and frightening at the same. But...also something else, which I just can't quite put my finger on...a most odd feeling of ..of..deja vu maybe, a `remembrance' sculpted from the pure associational power of words maybe, something very human and melanchoic but which also occupies a very brittle border with something else, something more adamantine, inhuman. o.k., well, i have to think about this some more... so maybe this was a good thing after all...
'YOUR LIFE' PERFORATIONS 22 As I was making an entry in my on-line journal
recently, it occurred to me that there must be hundreds of on-line journals
and diaries in this pre-millennial year. Perhaps most of them not using
any flashy graphics, javascript, CGI, CCS, dhtml, but patiently recording
the ebb and flow of their daily, weekly, or monthly life, perhaps only
the minutiae, which seems to clog most of lives but also gives it feet
and shoes to walk in., the stories of our small pleasures as well as occasional
defeats. And perhaps also that occasional glimmer that seems to give us
some sense of where and who we are, where we've been and where we think
we should be going, a passing but necessary illumination for not only those
of us who write them but maybe even for those who might happen to come
across them. Maybe it is the case that the journal is the arena where privation and levitation meet, as Clalvino so elegantly expresses it in `Six Memos For The Next Millennium', an ethnographic, primal ground where "words [are] are a perpetual pursuit of things, as a perpetual adjustment to their infinite variety". There, risks may be taken, hazards broached, without fear of judgement or ridicule, since the journey--a big part of the very word `journal'--is an internal one and the risks, private -- and no less so even when they are exposed to a net public. And what better place for such on-going immediacy of an existential grounding in a journal than on the internet, a fabulous beast constructed of unconscious yearnings and deposits and the fantastic capers of pure commodity, where privation and levitation again become hopelessly confused. This node of PERFORATIONS will feature your journal
or diary (after all--you put it on-line so you must want folks to read
it, right?) Whether only the daily emotional weather, dream diary, your
occasional unformed theoretical musings, sophisticated or homespun, we
would like to feature them. Rather than storing them on the Public Domain
server, we would like to link to your URL since the expectation is that
these are on-going efforts (with the exception perhaps of archived or discontinued
journals.). The only other wish on our part (other than that they be on-going
efforts) is that you send a small graphic which can be used as a thumbnail
on the index page and perhaps a brief description. For more information contact Robert Cheatham at
zeug@pd.org |
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