a series of fragments & notes about Chance, Fate, Context & Intention by Dara Wier
censorship, surveillance, scrutiny & camouflage
Censorship and scrutiny (related to scrupulous, maybe, should check, will check) and surveillance, keeping an eye on each other, cautioning, being ultra vigilant (one can hear it, the disembodied voice coming over the universal speakers in the lobbies of the transportation areas).
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Censorship, how do we practice it…how is it practiced…..what do we do, what does anyone do, what do they do (what would we say without THEY and how
would we say it)
how does it happen that to stop people from saying what they want to say, and to stop people from being who they want to be happens non stop. No matter what. Irregardless. Drawing that line is one of the hardest lines to draw (having never worked for any organization (e.g. ACLU) but for ones in which it is generally assumed that to speak freely one’s mind and one’s minds speculations is an ordinary, almost unremarkable assumption---though aren’t assumptions always dangerously obscuring) (isn’t assuming disregarding) (all the cracks in everything)
What subtle censorships do we lend one another, knowingly and unknowingly.
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Why it
is that and maybe how novels are so powerful.
They are, for this moment, for right now, undoubtedly,
the best thing in the written world
when it comes to what it comes to concerning the never ending exponentially infinite complications of human nature.
It sets us down in writing all in the prismatic observations (first observe this language we use everyday, then how we observe one another, and what we do with what we observe, how frangible and fragile we are, how easily everything can be broken, how generous true love is, what lasts and what can’t, who keeps who alive, who kills, who steals, who covets, who insults beyond justification, who got hurt, what reverence can never be assailed, who broke in to whose heart and mind, how can this be tangled and untangled, never.
It must be terrifying to choose to be a novelist.
Among other things.
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Why, for instance, a list is such a funny object. Just about any kind of list.
As if
listing is an act we can enlist to control the out of control thoughts our mind doesn’t stop providing. A list is a great act of human vanity and/or humor. It is another as if, as if this could be so.
We are heart-breaking when we number things: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.
Let’s say that’s the premise
and from there let’s add all the reasons
we can think of why this is the case. Say, we list.
And we careen.
How she fell in love with him is almost bothersome. How he fell in love with her unfathomable. And take it from there.
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Each little segment or incident, frame and pixilated scrolling stretch of experience, depending where one encounters it, in front of one’s eyes, on the face of one’s phone (which has tended to make everyone look sometimes as if they are impersonating a 1940s movie star looking into a diamond rimmed compact), close by one’s computer screen (and how big is, the smallest laptop, the broadest table model), in the regulation or small or ultra large pages of a book, or billboard, sign of any kind (all the way in to the secret signs and glances and glimpses we give and take on any given day)----each one amounts to a piece of the (the the plot plot) plot
and with each step (no one can say what a step exactly is
or say much about it’s size) (or any steps eventual outcome)
the story of our lives
comes into being.
In increments.
In impossibly stoppable (as in stop action) detail.
One appreciates the appreciation of all matters
intentional at this time.
Because who
wouldn’t want to emphasize one’s free choice and free will in all times, all times of such regulation, intimidation, homogenization, and confusion. And who doesn’t love one’s own agency and freedoms, from constraints unbidden.