But all of this was very helpful.
The limits of language limit my world. This is the language of experience.
At 2 AM, when I close my eyes, I can see clearly.
Losing my way is finding my way.
I compose word collages from 4PM-8PM Mon-Fri. I write longhand with six or seven source books open. I scan them very rapidly over strong coffee and very loud music. The music is on shuffle from Dvorak to Broken Social Scene.
I create a maze of sounds and images and try to navigate my way out during revision. The navigation is about finding various levels of meaning. Not all of the meanings are conscious. But not all of the meanings are unconscious either.
I regain the personal by trying to short-circuit it. Exhaust it through sound and image collage and montage. I need sources. The personal is complex. Emotions are complex. My sources are complex.
I am composing myself. Sound by sound. Letter by letter.
Ideas emerge in the sounds.
Then I can find the images.
But it all depends on the day.