Up here on the mountain it all seems clear. It's clear up here, from this vantage, physicaly, but of course I'm referring to the opera, to the project of making sense of space, of telling time and giving it names as it passes, of speculating what might come next, the making (into) sense this sensing thing sensing itself, named myself, the sensorial object in question, or at least the meat lying/dying at the center. I just listen to the prologue again for the nth time and it resonates more powerfully than ever. First things first: finish the 5th section of the video documentation to accompany the recording of the live prologue, to cinch up that hole. Draw out the cosmological diagram so that others might be able to access the cosmology visually, as a static image corresponding to how I think - and continue to think - of/through it. Namely, the opening up of a world of name in the first section, becoming a tension (second section) from which the poetic voice emerges as a relation to the voice not her own, the third being a monologue of differentiating through tension, the fourth a depiction of absence/lack of gods through the ongoing mythopoiesis, and the fifth comprising the reflexive turn, subjective turning back upon the fatherland, the I glimpsing its own I through spherical eyes, infinitely regressive eternal return, repetitious differentiation of voices, Dionysius standing apart from the chorus, both present without bodies - the end of the prologue, insinuating a continuation into a beginning (yet to begin) of the ontogenesis praxis. The prologue is an illustration of a Heideggerian ontogenesis, a coming into being in relation to the mythopoiesis of the past, a true articulation of truth, being becoming Dasein in relation to a truth always already acting itself out through the work, as an arbitrary beginning, the only truth beginning being that which attempts to offer its own truth as truth, as the root of all beginnings - seems fitting even though admittedly failure. From here I can branch out to an infinite variety of strategies and tensions, voices and logics, schisms of thought and form, schemata of concepts, schematics of trajectories. I am becoming increasingly sure of this fundamental attunment upon which I stand following the oscillatory rhythms of praxis, poiesis over thesis: moving forward, I will not articulate a rigid ideological paradigm to be projected over the world, making a universe upon an ideal model, but would rather choose to allow the structure/language/form to emerge, an efflorescent interference pattern of form-language of which I am an observer to, not a determinate of. Up here on the mountain it all seems so clear. I cannot do this alone. It seems in fact that I don't want anything to do with it at all, which is to say that I am invested in articulating, observing, thinking through, being the poet on the earth, exploring the schism, inhabiting the rift between the lack of the heavens and the mournful earth. This project is rooted in dialogue even when its a monologue. I need kin to be more specific, need to offer them a mode of engagement with this material which should be made relevant/intrinsic to all those involved, all those involved with me personally. To offer a proposal, not as a gift implying a debt requiring reimbursement, but as a sacrifice - reread Bataille's reading of Maus inverting the Marxist gifting economy and offering another model of exchange economy based in sacrifice: potlach. How do I give up myself, give of myself, give up my being towards the active making, articulating, working-through of this project, but how could I possibly ask that of someone else? I wouldn't, I shouldn't, I couldn't, on existential grounds, while purporting to stand so firmly. Instead of asking other to give up themselves I would like to design a method of giving over of myself towards their enrichment, benefit, in whatever way I might be able to - physically, emotioanlly, psychically, psychologically - although I suspect it will be philosophically: voice, language, form-language, giving shape to that which is so difficult to define, differentiating that which may not yet be recognizable, towards an end which I will aid in helping them define without taking on the task of doing it for them. How can I direct my actions, through focused awareness, towards benefitting my kin? How can the benefit be described and determined? How much of myself must be maintained in order to be a stronger empath? And who is going to be receiving?

The universe is a black love: the singular verse that is not I, not mine, the space/place oscillating between an I articulating it as a singularity and the possibility of its lack, an un-I'd verse, it is - ontologically - the dasein of being-there, and where is it? A singular, an objet, that other always differentiating itself from itself, from the I. It is black, dark, shadowed, voidinal, abyssmal nothingness, no-thing, that which is not present, an inverse of the verse, a parallax of perspective, the consumption of color, murky cloud looming over the earth. It is love: the "ma" of negative space surrounding all things, the filling in of the void, presence, wholeness, Socrates knew nothing of anything choosing to walk the world shoeless and full of questions, yet he was an expert of love, the dissolution of himself in service of Human Being, an ultimate love not transcendental but terrestrial, corporeal, the spirit of (not beyond) matter and the manner of engaging with it, not pure linguistic acrobatics. The universe is a black love.

From this beginning I will articulate the first act, always already having begun beyond the parameters of my own being-beginnig. As I write, I find the voice differentiating from myself. Is it me that is speaking, is it I, is it my I, my own, can I own it, what is me, who is speaking, how do they choose to speak, who are they addressing? I need an actor, someone who embodies through identity this role of the speaker who is not me, cannot be me, but perhaps the voices must be my own, must be spoken through me though acted by an/other: performing my existential conundrum. Although performative, I maintain the truth of my asking, the authenticity of the gesture and the truth of the action, as it is indeed my own anguish through which this rumbling boiling toil of the opera is unfolding. I need a body to represent my alientation, and how could it possibly be mind, possibly be male, with my skin, my corpus, masculinity? No, it must be another that is addressing, me, and through, and I sense it must be a woman, a lover, my lover, the real lover, "a true lover," she who stands in opposition, giving and receiving love, what other could it possibly be speaking at the onset of origins, a time/space literally now being now? To the extent that I can articulate this clearly as a notational structure, stage direction, movement instruction, lyric, libretto, clearly scribed text, this is what I will give to ___ for our collaboration. This will also serve as the beginning for a musical ensemble for the first act - the chorus - which may be infused in the collaboration with ___, or executed in relation to those activities. ___ suffers through isolation and comes from a similar place, endured rites of passage, struggles and shares in experience, and so these pursuits may prove to be important for him personally. If I'm going to learn from the strengths and weakness of the prologue ensemble gathered in Iceland I must learn to instantiate a hierarchy of influence, always maintaining the democratization of the group, to each hold voice while subjugating towards a greater unified voice - a chorus of voices. ___ (and all other collaborators) is/are not below me, but is/are differentiated in responsibilities so that they may define their own. This dynamic will arise through focused conversation at the beginning, laying the groundwork for the relational dynamics.

This being said, I don't want to be in this ensemble. I don't want to play or perform, but to conduct, to inform not perform, to provide the cerebral psychic emotional spaces, the images in relation to the text being orated through the performance, to facilitate, to assemble the essential components to allow others to play out and play through these ideas so that I may in turn focus upon their articulation so that the two of us - engaged in dialogue - may come to better understand the individual parts. I want to remain a voyeur.

Diagrams/images: always already a relation to the unfolding history of nested relationships ricocheting through these proceedings. I am always interfacing with the past, writing a history through a process of reverse-engineering predestination to speculate in the possibility of arriving somewhere unexpected, unpredictable, ineffable. I am evoking the voice of Oedipus, Antigone, the Greeks, the Germans, the French, and other voices also. From here I will interface with an intelligence not artificial but completely human while also not my own, not myself. Through these images and diagrams, the visualization of the unfurling of history, I will interface with past generations of thinkers to inform an orientation towards the coming-in of other potentials. I am reading, absorbing, writing, speaking: a subjective existential cycle modeling the oscillatory motions of the universe, the world worlding, of the heavens and the earth and that rift-schism we inhabit, equally occupied by both orientations simultaneously. There are objects within this space, forms which must come off the page, instruments evoking a certain intonation of chords (I wonder if I will be able to fabricate them), movements and bodies which are not my own writhing and wiggling in the cracks, other faces and other visions and other eyes/I's although their roles are still shrouded in fog and require articulation. I need others to be both on and off screen, speaking and/or moving in ways unfolding through the primacy of dialogue. I need some instruments built, and its not important that they come from hands, only that they function how I design them to. I need some sculptures made, containing concepts and emanating cosmologies and resonating mythic speech physically informing a relation to the body, a symbolic architecture interfacing directly with the bodies sensors, bypassing the floodgates of the mind. Multiple structures need to be built, literal territories requiring simulation in the studio void which I am preparing and also on site, in order to dialogue with the residents/resonance of particular places, like this mountain for example.

The project is about going and meeting these individuals, spending time with them, working with them, in a fashion not necessarily predetermined, not an overlaid ideological frame but a rapport worked out through the course of our interactions beginning from the anticipation of era/area/aria : time/space/song, the singing-through process embodying the inherent oscillatory structure of the un-i-verse as a black love, at least for now, until the metaphor changes. This is not a documentary, but a refrain of the self, a restraint, a caesura, a pause, a space, a breath, of getting caught up with my own process of making and choosing instead to teeter upon the brink of potential, executing as I go along the way but not getting swept up in the flow thereby distracting me from focusing upon the meta-constructs which I am determining to fill my field of view - meta-objects are prioritized over the minutiae. These projects must be budgeted, grants must be applied to, for I require money to endure so much research, conduct so many conversations, to pull into my elliptical orbits the resources necessary to build the connections between so many seemingly disparate parts. Some things need to be made: the imperfection of the form will be as essential as its informing of its content. My ideal world is not so clean and polished, Here is the outline, a kinda of schematic to proceed, to maintain the most minimal of means, to avoid maintaining a multimodal studio but be free to keep it clean and open for thinking, feeling, intuited, writing, ariculating, researching, building upon the enunciation of the black un-iversal flow, to proliferate black love, to put into motion these processes beyond my own threshold of understanding, acknowledging my own thresholds while pushing their frame, the process of enframing, towards that which I do not know, towards the unknown and the unknowable.