something else. which
reminds me what it felt like
belting the word “ECHO!”
out into the grand canyon,
once as a teenager but also
once as an adult: both times
just as giddy. but
the
assignment doesn’t sound
very practical until i think
lightning<—>thunder.
but
in all of this meandering
i’m still not sure how to
use the word, echolocation,
to apply to what i was originally
thinking, to use it as that word
which has been so necessary to me
but until now has been non-existent
or undiscovered. but i
did get a little
giddy when i read stephanie’s aside
about the word, or the ‘ideas around’
the word as used by or in the
manner of jena osman, thinking
maybe this is the word that i’ve
been looking for. for
so long now.
to use describing how little we can
know. about each
other. about our
selves. until we give in to at least a
lifetime of examination, of reverence,
and of scrutiny over each tapestry that’s
brought into each and every ever-so-ephemeral
unit that gets built when we bump into an other or
into a unit of others.
no matter how we go about it.
we aim/drift/somersault/meander/drive/rollerskate but
we always bump.
carrying with us each our own unique
quilt hewn of speech+writing+noise+dance+anything+
everything. and we
make what we make of the muck
that we make as we build by bumping, building by bumps.
we bump into samelike.
we bump into same. we bump into
unsame & insane & similarphobe & highly
unlikely. we bump
and we bump and we bump and we bump into bounty &
predator
& phantasmagoria & friend. bumping can be comedic or tragic,
we make of it what we will.
bump. ugh. bump.
ugh. bump. ugh.
bump aaaaooo.
bump aaaaaooo. bump aaaaoooo. bumping should be
fun. let me just
pronounce it. bumping is a great way to
get to know somebody.
