A moment. Making a nest of time. Here in the night office, fluorescent light reflected in the shadeless windowpane, colliding with the rounded planes of a steel sculpture outdoors. a few mornings ago i heard a terrific breakingcracking noise somewhere in the house, but haven't been able to identify a broken pipe anywhere...afraid of what'll happen during the spring thaw...don't know how to turn my water off. Barrett Watten came to give a talk and a reading last weekend, it was v stimulating and fun, lots of different people coming across my radar, in the department, at home, going to the Weisman to the Dylan exhibit, going to the Walker, making a turkey, setting up the room for a digital screening of some of BW's poems, hanging a sheet for projection, arranging the chairs, all kinds of material domestic arrangements that are not part of my everyday life...have my classes been suffering from my slight seasonal depression and exhaustion? v possibly...i'm in a room an office with four sides, how unimaginative is that, and yet does that force a level of interiority on me, an onus to create an imaginative world that moves and vibrates in a way my spatial-exterior world does not? in my grad class we just finished talking (sort of) about Mei-Mei Berssenbrugge's Endocrinology. Body as book book as body, as building, as map. Book as world. As outside so inside. but is it abject.