Sometimes — it can seem like we know what is going on
A mechanical habit of the self doing the heavy lifting — keeping your story linear — although the plot with its myth of a beginning — middle — end changes from second to second
Free of the myth of a beginning, middle, and end
The self likes to pretend it’s continuous — a single thread — stretching from shore to shore
I wish I cared more — judging by the reactions — a trend of dismissing those of us without a coherent plot — continues
Help your friends undo their illusion of a coherent plot
I don’t mean you — of course — we’re in this together — without beginning or end
And remember — if you like me — are feeling dismissed — it’s that damn plot trying to assert itself — grow roots — so it can pretend we’re not just an interruption in the light
An attempt to cast an aesthetically pleasing shadow
