integer on 6 Jan 2001 09:15:01 -0000

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[Nettime-bold] [ot] [!nt] \n2+0\ b38f28fy28yf82yf

i have returned from an excursion into life.
i've brought you [not yyyou] these.

i have such need for truth. it must be that need of immediate reko[r]ding which 
incites me to write almost while i am living. before it is altered. modified by 
distance + time.

writing for a hostile world discouraged me. writing for you [not yyyou] gave me 
the illusion of a warm ambiance i needed to flower in.

it hurts to be giving one's self away. what destroys life is the absence of mystery.
it seems monstrous to me to expose the sentiments one has. even those in the past.
even the ultra mort ones. 

i only regret that everyone wants to deprive me of you [not yyyou]
who are the only steadfast friend i have. the only one that makes life bearable. 
because my happiness with humans is so precarious. my confiding moods rare and
the least sign of non.interest suffices to silence me. with you [not ...`80 percent`]
i am at ease.

at times i feel as though you may have hampered me as an `artist`.
"talking to this friend has perhaps wasted my life"

yet ... rather than writing a novel i lie back with this book 
and a pen and a dream and indulge my refractions and defractions
i relive my life in a dream. for dream is only life.
i see in the echoes and reverberations the transfigurations which alone
keep wonder pure. otherwise all magic is lost. otherwise life shows its
deformities and the homeliness becomes rust ... all matter must be fused this
way through the lens of my vice or the rust of living would slow down my rhythm 
to a sob.

"my dear diary" she wrote at the time. "it is i speaking to you
and not one who thinks as every body should think. dear diary pity me
but listen to me"

and as the fanciful youngster blossomed into a vivacious young woman 
"possessed by a fever for knowledge. experience and creation" she also began 
to konstrukt for herself an "image". a "persona" which enabled her to face the world. 
"there were always in me" she noted. "two women at least. one woman desperate and bewildered
who felt she was drowning and another who would leap into a scene as upon
a stage - redress her emotions because they were weakness. helplessness. despair 
and present to the world only a smile. an eagerness. curiosity. enthusiasm. interest"

you [not yyyou] are the gathering place of my fragmented self. 
i have made myself personally responsible for every being who
may come my way.

what i have to say is distinct from that you [not ...8o prozent] have to say.
i am she who reconciles
action and kontemplation
involvement and self preservation
emotion and intellect
dreams and reality
i am she who despairs at reconciling.

it all began so innocently.

an [slightly edited] 

\\ !mprov!ng enkr!pz!on.teknolog!ez.


Netochka Nezvanova 
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