Chapter 1 

Oh this sadness, this unopposed sadness. No money. No understanding. My insight turns against me. Feel the need to get fascinated with another woman. I stare too long into the facts of death; in the fact that death has wheels, sound, and veolicty today.

It's amazing, even alarming how there is such close correspondence between the "unconscious" and the world-as-it-is. That is why, at a certain point, the unconcsiouns knocks your curiousity out of itself and into the outside world. It does feel from time to time that human beings are truly moving out of some old disponsitions. The devices are many but perhaps the devices are, themselves, only sympotoms. Men go through a deep, profound disillusionment of old memories after which the memories are turned into legend and fable. I don't know how it is with women. And, from time to time, this process produces a more vital relation with life. America, that fabulous beast, fights its dependence on other histories.

It's too early to doom the world.

David Eide
January 24, 2014