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from notebook

Throngs of people in the centre of katowice scuttling down the street. Legs don't work right around here. My energies are dispersed and can't keep ahead of the curve. Nothing is not enough. A saturation and then repulsion of selves. Reading and writing and being awake are a survival strategy. A pull toward the pit. Feeling all my work is a forgery. Why did I begin these travels? Why leave America? Have I discovered anything? I wanted to expand my writing practices. Not sure if I needed to go anywhere to expand my writing practices but I have learned what I don't want. Location is torn apart and I need a centre to direct my energies. Anti-poetic. Embodied. sex/birth/and primordial themes. The primal verge!!!

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