more text and endings

Perhaps with those one has to set up a number of objects. Has to be courteous with them and then not trouble about them. Mix with them and forget them. Hide them completely and say everything about them. For it seems they exist only from the outside. Only what comes out exists. Are they hollow inside? Hollow and the hollow filled with some- thing? Tubes of toothpaste? The whole a procedure by which one squeezes out the filling inside? He was still disappointed. What comes out. Comes out in unbroken seeming. Fixed. Or variants of fiction. Motions stirrings pilings incisions expulsions spasms curves distortions knots gleam. Something one has to learn learn by heart and learn by heart invent forget and rediscover? He thought it was hot, a damp hot hell, sweat emerging from his pores. Fanny dreamed that a cat was mewing outside her door. I walked into the back room, my brother was playing an unknown miles davis record with his friend. They must have been young, I was perhaps 7 or 8, I have no idea really. It probably never happened. It was 60++ years ago and I have no way of remembering if its an actual event or false. It doesn’t matter, its just a memory. Memory is as unreliable as speech, words are the ideological unit par excellance . “Your in very good form Mother” “Yes dear i rather think i am…” (Angus Wilson) But my behaviour is really mistaken (Brecht) undressed a little more each salvo on the outskirts of the city. by each ache in your hips and each bombed out tower on the horizon, you are always there, always within reach, almost naked. You don’t stop taking my saucers. Someone is filching my saucers. I’ve lost another one. It doesn’t stop. (Cixous) As usual, MacHinery was wrong. (Blish) The text breaks off, and calmly the answers keep ganging up. Things are going to be pretty dull around here with only one Ranger, I said. Ranger forked an icing rose off the cake and fed it to me, One Ranger is all you’ll ever need. She was sitting on the edge of the building roof looking down into the light well at the car. there is no other way of doing it unless you want to stay in the initial situation .i think what characterizes our generation is a marked sense of nostalgia for youthfulness or rather a surviving disposition to be young. forgetfulness . falling, watching the ground approach. divested of faith. I don’t want to hear anything, song of not seeing anything. Beside me, in the white darkness, I hear a soft laugh, the merry chortle of a baby. I feel the blazer that covers my eyes rising, the heat of the room entering and shaking my body, the excited voice of little boy beating my face. Found! They slide silently by and you realize they are sad. They slide silently by and we realize they are sad. Aretha Franklin, Mr Kiki and their som, Bob. A cat had given her away — he was in the room with her, and the next day he miaowed and scratched so at the door that someone came and openned it.