We are all governed by what we were as children. Therefore, we tend to refocus again and again on familiar things.
— Michael Ondaatje, Brick #79
THE LOCAL IS NOT a place but a place in a given man — what part of it he has been compelled or else brought by love to give witness to his own mind. And that is THE form, that is, the whole thing, as whole as it can get.
— Robert Creeley, “A Note on the Local,” A Quick Graph
introduction to the project ; house: a (tiny) memoir ; house: a (tiny) memoir ; house: a (tiny) memoir ; house: a (tiny) memoir ; house: a (tiny) memoir ; house: a (tiny) memoir ; house: a (tiny) memoir ; house: a (tiny) memoir ; house: a (tiny) memoir ; house: a (tiny) memoir ; house: a (tiny) memoir ; house: a (tiny) memoir ; house: a (tiny) memoir ; house: a (tiny) memoir ; house: a (tiny) memoir ; house: a (tiny) memoir ; a note referencing the project, by someone else ; house: a (tiny) memoir ;
1 comment:
Hi, rob,
not complete at all. Outside of the idea of self, standing out in that yard, being that wagon, that door, the local, the whoop of that self, is not the whole thing, but a fragment, a removal, what passes on, what dies. Or: the local and the self die at different rates, like the sliding harmonies of steve reich, like trains passing the night from mouth to mouth.
harold rhenisch
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