note on writing

I witness my own recreation, and prone on the couch I am back, back, back through until it burns the paper black.  The front door is open and the smoke funnels out and rises and spreads in the light, from what I can see.  I can’t see except in a funny way, that isn’t really seeing at all – it may be more like understanding – but there are other fantasies of understanding to which I have orgasmed and compulsively wiped myself clean, thinking now I can write, now I can write – right or wrong it provides a distinct sense of fulfillment not unlike twelve year-old boys gunning down virtual civilians, because there are devils probably everywhere, biblical haunts of their own explorations (they giggle beside us).
We begin with the reality that man forges the comforts and assistants of his environments, and inevitably seeks willful control of the elements of place in space and time.  Tonight, for instance, I saw a honey moon low and large.  Between the cove and my apartment lie the paths of the national park.  Night, and solitude, on the rock promontory which would echo the sound of phantom riders in the waves.  Yet as I entered the forest to search out that point below the moonlight I was stricken with fear, which was all around me, in the trees.  I anxiously turned back.  There seemed to be a voice.  But am I protected by the hand of god?  Is there a safety in myself?  I, refuge.  It is something I refuse, yet god knows I am trying, I am trying.  To know is to forgive.  I want there to be no misconception; a decision precedes an action, and it bears moral weight, for this is and ought to be the foundation of collective experience, for I and my neighbour are the same.  On this basis observation of group tendencies becomes possible.  The historical materialist dialectic is the narrative of collective decision-making, transforming not the material landscape necessarily but the class(ified) relations manifested not in universal accord but rather in antagonistic opposition.  Social groups are complex organisms with a metabolism; for we must eat, and eat cake.
My professor used to say that he wished his students already knew what he had taught the class before them, because, I suppose, it would have made for greater delight in dialogue.  The mind is as referential with thought as the sensation of spreading the stones of a pyramid must feel, as the human foot feels the stress of weight in a distribution that is impossible to specifically articulate, the weight is so alive.  Writing becomes a rough translation, abstract to concrete, from an interpretation to a symbol to be interpreted and reinterpreted and reinterpreted.  It is not mathematical.  It is looser than maths.  Yet when we make people predictable, it becomes possible to gamble in future stakes, to play with time.  Scientific guesswork.

'social life is essentially practical.'

interpretation is a twofold act of knowing the world and becoming aware of the world. these enjoy a reciprocal relationship, if they are given an opportunity to flourish. as each of these is realized in experience, the sensation of the empirical - whose personality is not neutral but historical - necessarily provokes or sustains a broad variety of lifestyles. just as the movement of history and the play of its collective forces lifts some, it weighs others down. the history of the relations of the capitalist mode of production is the force behind contemporary global conditions of extreme inequality. interpretation of relations and environments is a commons that has been trampled and muddied over and swollen with blood. it is here that idea is possibility, and the commons are as vast as humanity itself. still we deny and kill. a lifestyle is what each of us inhabits, but its quality depends on force of history, if not simply force of arms. of all the wealth produced in the world, what is come?

'in this sense, the theory of the communists may be summed up in the single sentence: abolition of private property.'