On noticing the play of the world for a moment.

Tonight.

Was a front porch, a loud fan, the manifestation of a new metaphor. accidental dangerous talk about dangerous relationships, conversation so record-able it refused to be recorded, the labeling of desire for many things not desire and Fracture.

Fracture. 

We talked about where it existed and what it did for the action of creation and the final creation (post-action).

Yes, this is something that interests me, this tearing apart without total separation. This separation without total tearing apart.

But at the end, it is so easy to fetishize how things fracture. What about the way they refuse to fracture?
What if we try to split a body into pieces and it won't let us? What if the body is our own?

What if I try to split your body into pieces, continually, and it won't let me?

(I try to compartmentalize, and the parts of me that desire you push you and envelop those compartments.

Like a train piling atop itself after hitting a brick wall.

But no brutality, a train of flesh.

Okay, brutality but one based off tenderness.)

I suppose I'm stealing (adopting) an idea from Negarestani in Cyclonopedia:
that a solid would not be thought of as solid if it did not have within it minor voids.

Solid vs. Void

A void refuses to contain a solid anywhere within it.
But because two particles (two ideas, two molecules) can never fully intersect, a solid will always include a void.

So you do one equation: you get a void.
You do another equation: you get a void.

So much priority given to 'nothing!'

2

: containing nothing <void space>

However. What is that tiny piece of solid within the void? What, for that matter, is meant by VOID?

That we describe it with a term -- nothing -- suggests that it is more than a non-existent.

Ironically, the word void objectifies the physical space of the void, the nothing; it turns it into an object (like a solid).

Nothing, like Fracture, owes its existence to the whole, the positive, the held-together (by strings of, perhaps, voids).

* * *

Boy, I am suddenly aware of how much tonight's talk affected the tongue in my hands!

But, the tongue in my heart is more akin to this:

"There's no place to spend our money where we live.
The generous world suggests we live generously."