outsider

There is movement. But frustration at being an outsider. Why do I put myself in the position of outsider? Quoting myself “when I come into a school as a guest teacher I can say what I want and do what I want, and nobody really bothers with me.” Maybe I have been in Tornio too long, too much. Slowly getting drawn into the bullshit of local politics. I will take other routes next year most likely. Cutting back on the teaching — not completely, but certainly some. Why is it we cannot perceive the whole? That the actuality of momentary presence is a pulsating field of fragmentary knowings discontinuously arrayed in the field of language and in a matrix of images, extractions, extractions. Put it back. Tell stories that do not end, immortality written in languages yet to be deciphered. Mythologies that are happening in the same moment of telling.