11.8.99 to make a single line from the point of nothing (my line is as good as my mouse). line is made, points connected. this is strong coffee, (this place feels dense: compacted). write about writing. sometimes it becomes from the marks, a making thinking with no direction (like this), just moving in hopes that a pattern may appear. and then the screen, not yet screen, fingers press keys, the tools of the trade. here a lot is written, without favour, against fear, (the natter of matter). then moving back into it-over it-through it, coming from any direction. (yes here, from left to write, though i am not looking. it is merely one key then another, multitudes of letters upon squares have a propensity for coalescence). To pick it up and throw it down. To see how it may