What to say of the entirety. The entirety should be smaller.
Small enough to say something about. Humans. What if
the guy you’re hanging up by his thumbs already has a
razorplague of painapples roaming his chest inside. Do you
regard that as his own fault? Do you really need to make it
worse? Do you think of yourself as a well-loved person? Of
course these are separate questions. Like dead salmon and
coppermine tailings, separate. So these separations, this
anesthesia, we should ponder a bit. Humans. What can you
control? Wrong question. Can you treat everything as an
emergency without losing the reality of time, which contin-
ues to drip, laughtear by laughtear? Where to start? Start in
the middle (and why?) so as not to end up there, where for
example the torture report ended up after all those years
of work. You have to know what you want, know what you think,
know where to go. New York City actually. Here
we are. Trucks crash by. Or was that another row of doors
slammed by gods? They’re soaked, the gods, they’ve tucked
their toes up on their thrones as if they don’t know why this
is happening. Poor old coxcombs.