all of this from reading Puppet, An Essay on Uncanny Life,  and thinking about THE END IS NEAR, and the monster puppet trump. 


i always thought that endtimes stuff was a funny way to keep the little people afraid and in control, and maybe it still is, but my severed root throbs, tellingly, maybe the end is near. or maybe i'm just a hungry ghost who doesn't know from donaldo.


in other related reading identity and memory keep popping up. erik erikson said no one can say what identity means. he said, i am erik, son of erik. i made myself, i'm erik's son. it's better to be your own originator. 

then two memoirs by girls who came of severed memory, like every book i stumble on, about the erasure, or the severance, or the transmogrification, of identity. 

this is just coincidence, what i find, secret past, re-invention, arbitrarily begun when ruhzinka fuchs say became rose fox, born of pogram, in a new world, the candle factory burned, the torch of freedom ignited.