the boundaries disappear (and war is over, if you want it).

 

yeah, the boundaries have disappeared. in this case inducing more trauma (make sure you never bring the office in the bedroom, no matter the reception). the boundaries of consciousness are also disappearing (perhaps). my blank rune of the unknowable seems propitious.

i think of the law firm i worked at, so toxic, spiritually and chemically, and i end up thinking of the day i said per bartleby, the scrivener, i prefer not, and descended the claustrophobic elevator to the ground, and left feeling utterly buoyant—of course i was young and irresponsible.

i think i may go to the point too. r. put all her things she wanted to let go in ink on scraps of paper and immersed them in water in a glass bowl and watched them dissolve in blue.

 

—that was a note i wrote to my friend and former dog client who works from home and i said that makes it even more traumatic, you can't leave work at work. a lot of times when i write a note i could be blogging it. everything is in the diary now, though there are things i can't even tell there, either i don't know or don't know how.