I have limitations. That makes me sad.

nighttime habits.

Apparently, I wake her up - but not myself - crying about one night in three. I have no idea what about. The last time I shared a room with my dad I woke him up - but not myself - saying over and again "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry".

tagging

At work we've been given these little radio-magnetic tags that have each been assigned to us, and which we have been expressly forbidden to loan to oneanother. They're subtle, discreet little things; they're stylishly designed. We need to use them to access our offices on either floor - and this after a seperate tag lets us into the building.

This new tag is, we're told, for office security. After, the secret services don't come in here at all to meet with our head of security who isn't alleged by some to work for the CIA. I don't mind, in a way, the blatancy of this tracking - we're hired because we're clever, so I don't imagine that they even expect what's going on to have escaped us.

And yet - do you know how these tags are meant to be worn? Around our necks.

Every boast is a confession; every confession is a boast

I loathe self-excoriating writing, that is unimpeachably and disingenuously down on itself; filled with onedownsmanship. It is such an adolescent posture that pre-empts rebuke and demands a kind of praise on its own terms.

pseudodoxia epidemica

When I was ten years old I used to insert spelling mistakes into my communications with adults above whom I placed myself intellectually, so that they would think I was charming and would talk down to me so I could take advantage of me. These adults included my step-mother, who turns out to be fucking smart.

Can you keep a secret?

Isn't that a revealing phrase; can you keep a secret? A secret has to be kept. Left to its own devices it will escape, it'll get lose. A secret has to be actively kept. It has its own agency, and force, and that has to be counteracted. If you keep a secret and you never ever tell anyone, you lose a part of yourself.

The film Cloverfield is told entirely by handheld camera. The script and the characters have the self-awareness to call the cameraman on this irritating habit he has of filming everything. At one point, chickening out of investigating something, he says 'You go. I'll ... document it.'

And yet every time that the person holding the camera dies, another one picks it up. Despite any reservations they expressed about filming beforehand. And it's because they can't help confiding in the camera; they have to share the secret. The story, in Cloverfield, forces its protagonists to tell it, no matter how little they want to.

My sister thinks that this is too exclusive. That you need some teleologies. She means that you need some secrets. So I'll tell you some. Can you keep a secret?

I can't.

Can you keep a secret?

Isn't that a revealing phrase; can you keep a secret? A secret has to be kept. Left to its own devices it will escape, it'll get lose. A secret has to be actively kept. It has its own agency, and force, and that has to be counteracted. If you keep a secret and you never ever tell anyone, you lose a part of yourself.

The film Cloverfield is told entirely my handheld camera. The script and the characters have the self-awareness to call the cameraman on this irritating habit he has of filming everything. At one point, chickening out of investigating something, he says 'You go. I'll ... document it.'

And yet every time that the person holding the camera dies, another one picks it up. Despite any reservations they expressed about filming beforehand. And it's because they can't help confiding in the camera; they have to share the secret. The story, in Cloverfield, forces its protagonists to tell it, no matter how little they want to.

My sister thinks that this is too exclusive. That you need some teleologies. She means that you need some secrets. So I'll tell you some. Can you keep a secret?

I can't.

snippet #5

She had made some delicious pasta sauce - reduced tomatoes and courgettes - "I wish courgette meant 'King's vegetable'" I said, and we curled up on the sofa and cuddled and giggled and she nudged my cheek with my nose, but I was already smiling and smiling