Wednesday, December 12, 2007

item #7888

Ma'am, I'll attempt to be decisive...

Your figuration I see as development. I happily circle, wild and hermeneutic, for you; teething in-train cogs of philology, albeit non-profound and affected. I admit I have developed no distinctive style. Too much to me seems too thorough. My context, in contrast, is keep strict, as you know. I dream of you... dreaming, I say: Dialog, my love, she approaches, grounded in Plato, grubbing for her Heideggerian reject. I quiver subjectivism, dabbing my fingers into your wounds. All is liturgical, my love. But I seek to simplify on your behalf, as agreed. Yet, every vague notion progresses toward one interpretive method or another, in endless rounds of understanding mediated by unstoppable, autonomous addition. I think my employment should be more orthodox. I do know that I crave to more accessible to your particular style.

May I add, Ma'am, that my work for you seems concentrated, but uninfluential. All my elaborations are seconded to an existing, far-removed dialogue. Our engagement seems endlessly deferred, as you yourself have said more than once. I may be too literate, too particular, my love. But I seek to characterise something evident to me - no more. My role gives me concepts only.

With love, jaynie x


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