April 8

OPERA–works--operatic–like works. Operative–machine parts work. "Jet
parts rain from the sky"–Chandler's randomness. The inevitable meeting place
of fact and coincidence. Someone 10 feet away is speaking to me–are you
enjoying it (Roussel) trying to keep up writing while maintaining absurd but
friendly conversation about dogs trained to attack. Big dogs won't attack
little dogs, little dogs will attack big dogs. Jet parts rain from the sky.
"Writing notes on your reading?" Just taking notes–journal. Oh.
Explanations–inclusiveness. Jet parts rain from the sky. "Word falling–photo
falling." Back to the conversation, nothing else to write. Man laughs randomly,
"That's a strange kite–almost like a snake." Feel gradual force in
notation–willful and pleasant–is making a time that is taking on the qualities
of the park. "Getting hungry–hope I see you again." Pink and green of Mission
buildings. Flower people, birds peck at sweets. Siphoning off sweet cream.
Twilight in Hermosillo, Mexico, roseate aura of drugstore–Pharmacia–main street,
palms dividing boulevard, Dolores Street, dolorous, dolorosa, while sweet,
languorous. Woman takes ice between her lips. You want the world to take place,
without any borders of thought. The widest possible conception fills it out.


(Barrett Watten. "April 8." Opera-Works. Bolinas: Big Sky, 1975. 34.)