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Atrophic form, preparing for Boris


In a state of prior existence, a material, a priori, take it, think about it , look at it, begin to act upon it, to communicate or not, to say or to meditate on a thought. The corners begin to fall rapidly away as you shave out what the thought permits. you go on in a frenzied state allowing action to inexplicably follow thought and feeling and action and reaction, muddle through it. The thought is eating itself now, it is devouring its self with every action on the external, every action causes the thought to change, until yet more angles fall away, where was the first angle? What was the original angle, is now gone, it doesn’t matter, is this learning? nevermind, keep going and the thought is there, with the feeling, its power executed on the material, this is no longer a priori, because it is becoming rounded, at both ends, it is real, almost human, for it is being observed, the object stares back, almost screaming. There is no theory for pure form, gleaming, glistening form, like a wotsit or a jelly bean, or a pebble travelled thousands of miles, held by the sea, should be so knowledgeable, so well travelled but has gone too far, too well rounded to easy, rollable, no interest. The thought has gone now, you must start again, you have run out of material, you shaved it all away, its gone that purpley colour, start again.

In a state of prior……

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