that rip van Winkle sense comes to me with its touch of mortality like ice on the pane 

fugue

 

As I start to hear the music Jörn composes, how it has begun to come to me in soprano like seagulls wailing and tenors of vocalized lines from Norse mythological sagas 

when suddenly I get an urge and I want to hurl myself off a bridge 

this place of the celf ….do I forfeit ….so it comes to my awareness and so…. you see, it has always been a part of me; this dictionary …. this fortress….

even as I know the answer I ask —so do I move forward?

  ….I get sick with fear and vertigo 

it is not for them to take apart 

so what am I doing —what am I doing? there will be no where to go if ….I share the dictionary; no where to go, no other place to run for cover, no where left within —and no one….no one, at all 

but what was it for, anyway? 

but

—whose terms? The double edged sword, 

only but no, nothing is worth my soul; it is not a product ….is a nom de plume enough, I wonder, and my identity, my face? give them electra?and for someone else ….perhaps it is too much

threadbare rope

 encore une fois, un timing parfait….  et apparaît toujours

….tack

 

politics is war and ephemeral 

    but really, it is just levels of slavery 

           as it ever was 

Oh woe be gone, melancholy knight, the armor is far too heavy 

e.d. ….it is one of those days, but you know I won’t say. I can’t say. and must never. because the moment we do the slippery slope will win and so why do I come here at all if I can never say. so long, the knight. as the wind nearly blew me away today…. on such a bleak plain —so was it the disappointment in hearing something unkind that has gotten back to me about —oh I don’t know, enter any name (how about some barbed wire tied to an ankle) and add a stab to the back and so….it is e.d. just e.d. and only e.d. who has held us up…. 

et toi, si tu es vraiment là. parce que tu es peut-être le seul à m'avoir jamais vu, et pour cela, j'espère que tu es réel

 ….et tu sais que je le ferais

et apparaît toujours

I was living in Cedarhurst when I did this by candlelight during the New York blackout, 16 August 2003; the date is clearer here in this picture of the sketch than the one in the previous posts. I remember doing this and I remember exactly what I was thinking when this happened —like my horse reflection in the water painting and really, all my art, the images come on their own and create themselves. they always appear to me as if something moves my hand to create it so I am as much the viewer as anyone and as I realize how weird it is to admit this, there is something ‘magical’ that occurs when I paint or physically create, a feeling that I can only describe as something close to divine 

too bad it’s not a better drawing, I didn’t realize something was causing that line of impression in the dark.