Looking Through an Old Notebook.

"This circle is an elusive one. Having drawn one curve and acknowledged it, the other half shies away. How to start the wheel? Who spins the Tao? What hand puts it in motion? It is infinitely big and infinitely small. It always spins around itself, never sticking, never catching. Never stops or starts, always locking, always latching. The more you advance, the more I retreat. The snake that swallows his tail. The desire for reunification of principles spins the wheel of life. There will always be two forces, two wills, two desires, one waxing, the other waning. Each is already present within the other."

"At that point all the rabbits took a turn for the worse."

"Your halo has begun to rust."

"Pages turn but the form of the reader stays unchanged."

I also found a few of my instructions, when I was trying to come up with new ways of thinking how to write a song. I had a very clear vision of a city singing to a person-- that is, all the little machines and devices we have around us coming to life and singing a song. (I was listening to a lot of Fennesz at the time and found his use of digital distortion refreshing and contemporary). I remember trying to imagine what it would sound like if an elevator sang a lullaby, or an ATM tried to seduce you with a soulful tune. I still think this would make for an interesting project, if I had some more technology and time.