Lacquered Brain

"What lies within the darkness one cannot distinguish, but the palm senses the gentle movements of the liquid, vapor rises from within forming droplets on the rim, and the fragrance carried upon the vapor brings a delicious anticipation." Tanizaki 15.

This quote is in reference to a dark, lacquered bowl of miso soup eaten in an old room with old lights. And other things, probably; everything, by virtue of existing in this world, is touched and tampered with by everything else--even in the smallest of ways, this quote is connected to many things besides soup and shadows. Some more than others. Some less than others. But everything's got a claw in it somewhere.
But those last four sentences were throwaway; I am trying to obscure and making a mess of it. I am trying to keep from saying that I am holding on to this quote like my last coin, my last weapon against (for?) syntheticism, against an unresolvable story. But my brain has found the weak point in the armor, and I can't forget it's there. And if you have to forget something to make it work...then it doesn't work, does it? I wish it did. I'm working on it; I'm working on it. I just need the right numbers.

decanters look cool.

antonym

1870, created to serve as opposite of synonym, from Gk. anti- "equal to, instead of, opposite" (see anti-) + -onym "name" (see name).

anastrophe

"inversion of usual word order," 1570s, from Gk. anastrophe "a turning back, a turning upside down," from anastrephein "to turn up or back," from ana "back" + strephein "to turn" (see strophe).

strophe

c.1600, from Gk. strophe "stanza," originally "a turning," in reference to the section of an ode sung by the chorus while turning in one direction, from strephein "to turn," from PIE *strebh-strophaligs "whirl, whirlwind," streblos "twisted"). "to wind, turn" (cf. Gk.

A turning of a turning of a turning of a turning--spinning spindled wait, look, listen, catch up your legs, you're dragging threads and I know this song I know this face I bit its eye I twisted its lips I tied the thread so many colors so many frays and ways around this weird house my house? no not my house just my points and my eye and my string and my running and--is this-is this what--?

I am so tired. I do not have nearly enough of a reason to be tired--just a history of animals and loud noises, mostly. I can sleep with the TV on, with my laptop fan on, with the dreadful light in my room on. I have I do I probably will. But when you get one good night of warm, dark, quiet sleep...sand is forgotten much more quickly than it is recalled. Sand is heavy. Collecting takes time.

If I could just--If I had-I don't care ab-I don't want t-I-I just--

"I run the numbers through the floor."