you had meant ot write about various forms of absent-mindedness and how they relate to writing. you thought about this while listening to an orchestra rehearsal, while you sat in a corner and were writing. they were stopping and starting again, repeating certain passages. anything but the whole piece. and you thought how this sort of was in some way beneficial to your state of mind, how it helped you concentrate, sort of spacing out, another mental space. the way noise can sometimes be more helpful than quiet. and how this in turn made you ponder various forms of absent-mindedness.
and you wondered how far you could withdraw into yourself and immediately thought: this is the wrong question, you know that already: the dissociative continuum: nothing can hurt you anymore, the downside: the good can't come in either...
and how this is not static.
you think how easily this can change: what was once a nice atmosphere suddenly turned and you expect horridness in every instant -- while the double basses are just humming away.
a tension between what goes on in your mind and in reality. not always easy to get some congruency into that.
but there is - the good and the bad spacing out. this one way that really helps concentration and focus while the other one cuts off every connection to the world. if one is some form of oblivion, abandon while the not so good sort is dissociation. and what's the difference?
so you sit there and write yourself away.
away. but which sort of away?
is it the capacity to the amount of oblivion, of abandon?
abandon as a positive opposite of dissociation?
some form of letting go in a more open way than the invisible locked upness of dissociation?
maybe it's to do with attention. the attention is operating differently:
in dissociation: while the attention in some way is freefloating too, it's not tied to anything, not conctrating on maybe the thing to write, but somehow under some kind of invisible tension.
in abandon: a relaxed attention concentrated on the thing at heart, ease, the locked upness is gone... this odd tension...
some many different ways of silence
is the capacity for some forms of absent-mindedness a precondition for writing? i am not sure. but it can help to follow some thoughts one wants to write when one is able to shut out the world to some extent. but when does it become dangerous?
no, not with care, but oddly directed attention: an acute awareness in one direction (the elaborate ways in which you lied to your exhusband, the way you now have to be careful whom to tell what about you) lead to negligence and imprecision in other areas: sometimes asking people the same question within minutes, because you don't know anymore whether you really asked it or just wanted to and you don't know anymore whether they replied and what (in case they answered) - this is something you do a lot, and probably for other people the easiest sign to see that you're occupying the dissociative continuum in that moment. it's mild though. and the other things more to do with a shifted focus of attention is being shitty at referencing or making silly mistakes, not noticing or forgetting very obvious things &c.
a tension of holding very disparate things together messes your capacity for attention in whatever it is: the here and now.
you got to call yourself back.
maybe the task is:
to turn the naming into describing
and the dissociating into abandon
the way you still haven't decided whether to write in the 1st or 2nd person. obviously you're the same person. you're not a split personality. as you said, it's mild. it's more some odd detachment to the world. some alienation. of not probably being at the same level of presence than others, occasionally. a more serious form of daydreaming, more like split reality.
why do i have to think so often about pain.
two reasons, actual and past occurences. & where the actual is a result of the past.
but why is it on your mind so much.
(now that your life is (reasonably) safe)
why do i have to be forced into coherence
are words doing that?
the unfinished notebookquestion. you sit and write. you forget about: how are you ever gonna get into the secret that will always escape you - and the always - of course - the permanent nevertheless of approaching the impossible that writing is and the joy of it, almost a bravado. the many things doomed to failure and - yet. of course the writing goes on. it goes on and on and on and you let it guide you. you don't really care. it's the doing and later you still can see.
[one of the problems with this country is that there are no proper stationary shops anymore. so you went and bought new ones, probably staying nomadic on this question of which brand of notebook you'd like and you just try out different ones. you bought a green one, a4 and a black one, a5 and a brown one somewhere inbetween the two, sizewise. probably last you 2 months or so. how this cheered you up, those notebooks.]
write yourself away. you don't need a name when you are writing, no? a writing without names. words are not names. when you just use the words without naming things? or using the names in order to describe, not prescribe?
what's the difference between naming and describing?
you don't really need the naming, do you?
taking the naming out of the word.
the beyond of the naming.
and that's why i thought that innocence is something late. that it is a form of beyond. where writing, it's just the activity and seeing where it leads you to, with the attention of abandon.
that innocence is not something that gets lost early on and can't be regained but that it is something late, after having seen enough - a state and not an attribute - is an instant that occurs, comes into origin only with attention being in the right place?
attention, innocence, absent-mindedness.....