On the meaning of friendship

In slight disagreement with the much-circulated definitions, I think that it is a mistake to see true friendship as the occasion where – in the presence of another person – “one can be oneself”. In my opinion, such an account mischaracterises the realities of self and being because nothing, be it person or thing, is ever really stable enough to know who or what they are, as if they were a single unit resistant to change, spontaneity and the general chaos of difference. Instead, I prefer to see friendship in its strongest sense as marked by a time and space, shared between two or more people, in which one is allowed to be no-one because, there, one is not obliged to be some-one. Basically, where and when the all-consuming stress of self-stabilisation – which preoccupies most social relations – is relieved rather than resumed in the presence of another person, the self has found a friend in that person, indeed.

In a world where most social relations demand specific identities at specific times and castigate deviations from those, surely the greatest social relation, friendship of the highest type, must be the doing away of such demands, the clearing away of the need to be someone or something distinct. It is not so much that each person has one true identity which is constantly being suffocated by all the social roles that have to be performed, but that, in reality, a person is just a cacophonous mess of different, all in all uncategorisable, people, sporadically, spontaneously spurting from the same body, and friendship becomes the vital opening of a gap within the quasi-oppressive social whole, not so that the one true self can be whatever it thinks it should be (which more or less sounds like yet another imposition of the same oppressive whole), but actually so that this complicated body of self can finally, freely sing out of all tune and trust the audience to dance, in the special harmony that comes from shared atonality.

21 twenty times already and something even more eternal before that

and the distance-catchers. (who are they?)

 

A triangle as tall

as the rain has to fall.

 

(in brackets) does that mean

they are caught in this, too?

does It mean

this cannot be caught, either?

 

there is us

hand-tied until

we have learnt

how to fly

 

If only the weather                    more                                      Something clearer

could be worn                             comfortable                         than this hole

like a tie                                        lasso                                      in my face

 

First place is everything on time

 

And that exactly to ask what of happiness of being happy

hands-free signal of meaning different from meaning

of happiness

in the thoughts of that which

is not happy

 

“that which is”

witch of Which, again

which spares the middle;

 

the mean cuts

more than it enjoins

 

I might enjoyn-ow

but then, the same time of time as before

what time is it “then”?

and half of the time

so at least half of everything else.

 

As wide as a rectangle of sleep.

 

Contender two                         whence                               and even in the

for worst                                    all                                        spillage of all

defender of                               distinction                          things into one

history mystery                       religious                              another,

 

it probably did not have to get as bad as me being as bad as myself

 

but really

who really

knows?

 

The distance catchers.

who are They?

 

Hole whole symmetry.

It probably.

 

the first page has been unicorn

Salting over things peppercorn

All very forlorn

Most of the time,

so pretty much all of the time.

 

A variety of rainbow

made up from part-visions

of a suspected unified existence

but not yet seen all-in-one.

 

The Greater things are born

of either scorn, porn or bore-dom

(not-one-but-two is such a beautiful fucking whore)

therefore, there are no greater things [sic]

 

Just peppering

which does not get justice

but perhaps for-gets justice

witch I fail to understand

which might be the point

of the triangle or the rain

 

does not get jusTice: but spiCes: Up sensation

from

parameters of unicorn self-justification

to

unicornification of self-same parameters

 

like a rhythm to be found inside a proper shuffle

(in brackets)

 

the distance to be caught

is the measurement of all distance catching,

until we learn flight

 

everything in sun-dye

 

the whole of the hole in my face

is

the hole of the whole of my face

 

symmetry probably

 

if only it could be drawn on

as the weather draws on

the water

to walk and talk

at the same time

 

You see it now, do you not?

Something in between; something missing

Tied hands, bloodshot eyes, sky of a fire

Hell.

Almost.

But again, not quite.

This is the end

A river

ends / in

more water;

 

there, a

Sea-son

is born.

 

The difference,

sweet water

salt water

 

a difference

of water,

still water,

 

from still

to less

still, but

 

still water,

and waves

goodbye

 

and waves

hello

again.

 

It waves

because

the weather

 

because

the season;

because

 

of the

sea-son

it means

 

the weather

can carry

the sun

 

the sun

will carry

the water

 

and then

like always

again

 

it ends

in tears,

it ends

 

in tears

again.

The river

 

is born

from then;

Sea-son,

 

fruit of

the same

but then

 

is neither

sea nor

sun nor

 

son of

those, but

a thing

 

both more

and less

than all

 

of them

together

again.

 

And ends /

in more

and less

 

and so

does not

end. But

 

it goes

again;

the tears

 

do not

wait for

the end,

 

they are

the end

beginning

 

again.

The seasons

the weather

 

the sun

the water

the river

 

are just

themselves

Sea-born,

 

torn from

the tears

of what

 

already

was, in

the end.

 

A river

ends, there

a Sea

 

is born,

will end

in tears

 

again.

Will end

in tears

 

again.

Will end

and end…

 

will end

and end,

again.

 

But the

fruit of

this rain

 

will be

more and

less, will

 

be more

and less

again.

 

Natural Weather

Where the sun lifts the world like a flower-builder

which is to say an impression-grower

The clouds come and go as contrast-breakers

like doubt-creators

When the rain drops, soup-filler

and runs, route-divider

The wind, from breezy to fiendishly tropical, a plain-sweeper

and over water wave-sweller

with all the force of a coastline-to-beach-converter

Storms being a bit of most of these combined, awe-inducers

and when absolutely electric, apocalypse-teasers

then the temperatures, an all-weather phenomenon, season-dependent home-conceivers

in winter, armchair-by-the-fireside-philosophers

summer, all-night-dancing-in-the-streetlight-lovers

The cave

Pyramid organisation

is triangulated through one

fundamental premise:

 

  • it will always be easier to stare at the ground and move than movement whilst gazing after the universal roof

 

it is within the exercise of the body

that horizon endlessly more visible

than the cloud to threaten the clarity of the way forward.

 

To counteract this rigid truth

that the least visible be at least visible in its invisibilising cause

must the neck be trained, the head prepared

 

for the body of the Pyramid, in turn

is divided in levels top to bottom

the lower, lower, than the higher, higher

 

the lowest of all feeds all

the highest is fed by all

the at-bottom at the bottom run by all the above

the topmost running everything altogether.

 

In this principled pyramid

easiest does focus come where levels the same

and over-all especially against those below

 

and, according to principle,

hardest under-all for the sufficient stare to see

through to the top and build vision really:

 

  • the lower the floor of the eye that tries to vertex meet, the sharper the angle for the neck to risk;
  • and riskiest of all for the body remainder needed itself resource to re-source the rest of the pyramid all the same.

 

So, does not the empirical distance of this pyramid in itself to itself therefore explain

the breeding of as many myths for the skies it obscures to its many grounds

and likewise uphold respiratory structure to that down-the-neck breathing of a total power exhaled through the layers by a crown placed singular, final, atop all?

 

Well, now, if to build this neck with hopes of observing the full distance of the structure it feeds and the crown it empowers without folding over itself

the burden on its spine and sight would have to be shared amongst a collection of angle-shapers

each in turn taking in different part-moments of an image and presenting the evidence across a language yet to be levelled out…

 

To outstand pyramid organisation

and the inter-level division it reciprocates neckline intra-level

only a head-sharing language could entwine the sufficient point of view to bring about a structural collapse.

Purple, historically (the horizontal perspective)

Different things can only behave indifferently

for their difference is at stake,

their indifference, met by other differences behaving the same,

begets more difference, unbeknownst to their selves indifferent

next difference comes as a shock

a destabilisation

turns a simple change to ex-change:

the future presents without the full sight of its pre-sent property

this is what turns history on

what sexualises history

and a bastard is born.

 

The search for Genesis

that seeks the day before a birthday

comes as history makes visible

the Invisible

is at once the interruption and resumption

of an ever land-ing fall.

 

Where the fall is just the continuous bastardisation of everything.

 

The colours of the Fall (the vertical perspective)

In the permanent fall

Red and blue are different colours

one falls red, the other blue

 

Because the fall,

although permanent,

must at least sometimes land

otherwise it neither falls…

 

(permanence is not permanent

unless it can be some time interrupted

and then full Time resumed

the interruption that which makes it visible

with resumption later confirming what was seen)

 

…sometimes these colours will spill

on the surface of an interruption

and then they act on their differences

red flows out from its landing place

blue likewise from its own point of contact

 

there, on this sur-face,

red and blue difference is not just a distinction

it is an indifference of red to what is blue

and of blue to what is red

in logical spread they will meet

the faces earlier they distinguished

will clash

this is the violence of being indifferent in

a room of limited difference

limited visibility

where the horizontal shape to being visible

causes a movement of indifference

spillage, that spreads

goes on to over-take, from itself,

and does not change itself in that

but will be differentiated again

 

The encounter

Red clashes with blue

 

What happens?

Purple signals the resumption

from indifference to difference again

the interruption has changed

confirms that everything is falling

Stream of consciousness

I am just a clouded movement across the light

One day, I will rain out, continue the cycle as water

which is everything anyway

giving me no reason to leave this world, ever;

a cloud is just a more embodied water

the difference between flowing and standing up:

the promise of rain, eventually

a return to source

When, on the riverbed, I will be able to sleep again