Woozle/Jenny/note/006/transcript

Nov 6, 1980

Ah, how the written word so cleverly hides the ugly, the coarse, the awkward.

We read the words and think them independent of anything. We don't think of the hand that wrote them. Only the perfect thoughts we see, the delicate crystals suspended between body and mind.

But when faced with reality we back away, hiding inward. We then wish the thoughts on the page, and the thinker elsewhere.

A crude thing to say, true. But is not most truth painful? Awkward, like the seeing, the hiding, and the wish that we are not hiding. The thing we are hiding from.

Slow down, we move too fast. On the wheels of time we spin.

"Two further Kaspars come toward each other across the stage from different directions. They want to get past each other. Both step aside in the same direction, and bump into each other. They step aside in the other direction and bump into each other again."

—Kaspar

The spinning wheels of time... Bobbing past, slowing down, waiting for to catch up, bobbing ahead.

We must communicate on such matters. Not letting them lie flat, while the opaque mists of time pound them into the asphalt.

M.O.T.C.P.S.A.O.I.G.O.W.T.T.W.

I continue to hide my

identity behind a mask

of lies