One Thinks

Further to my last post, one thinks of many things. In no particular order:

One thinks of the Crown Prince of Unfinished Projects, Mr. Luigi Narsceni, who writes, principally, about the time wasted thinking about writing, or the process of not being able to ‘finish’ what one has ‘started’.

One thinks of Professor Ulrich Klarg and his infamous pamphlet 1973, Residue.

One thinks of Lithuanian philosophers, all seven of them.

One thinks of actual caged swallows, such as the one in Hans Jenka’s 1954 novel, Hanging Out Behind Bars.

One thinks of why one thinks what one is thinking. Then one takes a break from this, with added coffee.

One wonders why one cannot think of any other writers whose work deals in detail with this particular issue, despite its being one of the central problems surrounding the creative process. There must be an apposite quote from Leo Barnard, Oa Aayorta or Kirois Quebec. Stephen Le Philopas must have said something on the subject, surely?

One remembers, then, the words of C.P. Pedrik. ‘The project is the snail. What one reads, however, is the snail-trail: the icky mucus left behind, which promises to lead you, but never quite does, to the animal itself’. One thinks that this could be bent into relevance, like almost anything.

One thinks, but one does not always put it into words. Between every line is a thousand unspoken words. Which is to say that there is, was, and will ever be more than there is was, and will ever be.


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