Self and reality. Symbol and language. Myth and image. Memory and consciousness.
Dream and unreality: locus communis.

Wednesday, December 31, 2014

A River of Fractured Thoughts

Managed to sleep for almost ten hours in a row during the past three days. A shifting towards my old habits, before Brendan, before early morning classes on the other side of town—
He has watched The Wizard of Oz every night for the last week. However, Brendan has become obsessed with every scene, every fantasy element in the film. I would not be surprised by the fact that he could recite the dialogue, word-for-word. Gesturing with the actors.
Determined to end the year with more declratives, positive closures— even mundane actions: bird seed spilling over the feeder, discovery of a new poem on-line, an idea sparking before night falls full—
                               but sleep is approaching. I feel his presence in the room, encouraging me to turn off the lamp. He strokes my hair out of my eyes,
Tonight, in a few hours, I still need to set up the Fractured Lines Project within Twitter. One line per hour. The beginning of every hour for every day. A river of fractured thoughts for the upcoming year.

Image from: dreamsteep

One debate lingers: leave the lines as momentary, numbered examples received in the readers' head, briefly— or record the entire result, week-by-week here, on the blog. For the curious or those who may have missed a day or two of entries, the later is preferable. It suits my sense of wanting to establish a mark in the literary world. The fickle industry of words.

So, I pull down the physical dictionary from the bookcase, The Oxford American College Dictionary (2002).
fracture n. the cracking or breaking of a hard object or material [...] typically a bone or a rock stratum. • the physical appearance of a freshly broken rock ir mineral, esp. as regards the shape of the surface formed [...] • [as adj.] (fractured) (of speech or language) broken. (531)
Nothing new or extraordinary about the status of the word— it exists how I viewed it: as a means of snapping poetic verse to suit a given situation— as in this case, fit the format of 144 characters per entry. In the end I'll simplify the titling of the full concept: "Fractures"— curt and minimalist. To the point.

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