Been Away From the Blog Mic for Awhile
Sartre lays it out like this: "The object is essential because it is strictly transcendent, because it imposes its own structures, and because one must wait for it and observe it; but the subject is also essential because it is required not only to disclose the object but also so that this object might exist absolutely" ("Why Write?" 1948).
Humans disclosing to humans the presence of objects and events which are continually disclosing themselves to us so that we may perpetually disclose their existence and manifold ways.
What a conundrum we've gotten ourselves into here . . . wherein lies the confusion? The rock that I see before me operates under its own set of laws? Yet at the same time, I, through an act of writing, create the rock. I kill the rock; I create the rock. When I write, I . . . to utter those words . . .
THE QUESTION OF THE WEEK: At what point are we unable to disclose an object before us due to its uninterpretability, its silence, its defiance against the word?
Being back in America has left me wordless frequently
failing to find the word
fetching around like a sick dog on a pile of its own dog piles
ferretting to get back to that place where "it's all good,"
where lukewarm is always warm enough
foraging for an identity that left a sweeter taste on the tongue
fumbling with "f" words when "futon" and "fude" seem fitting
festering for something else, forgetting what's here right now,
feeling like this human-being shit requires us to not be human
fucking with these lines, these words
finding expression through the absence of the right word.
I've already said too much.
--Coos Bay, 10/18/05
Mark Turner



