Reading Day 4
Study according to Moten and HarneyES #lyricalessay, #experiencial, #life, #crowd/collective
If I am studying now, shall I sit on that uncomfortable, light brown, wooden chair, behind that writing desk over there? In that blue-lit classroom, with the small window without curtains? If I am studying now, shall I sit behind that tall, unshaven, slim, young man in that 500 seat, crowded lecture hall, who is just a little too tall for me to see over? Or shall I sit at that dull-lit, mahogany desk, from either side towered over by bookshelves? Books. Books. Books. They wrap over me and I’m learning. I’m reading. I know! I think. Do I know? But, truly, study begins before all this. Before the classroom. Before the book is open. Before you think you have started the seminar. Study never really begins or ends. Study is on the walk to your destination with your best friend. Skipping down the tarmac path through the park, connecting the train station with homes and schools, past the big field that used to be bigger when you were smaller, under the oak trees you used to climb, trying to catch the squirrels. To feed the squirrels. To force feed them the nuts. Skipping towards your destination together, as if there was something so exciting to get to. Side bags bouncing up, down, up, down, crashing into one another, as you giggle about your new crushes. I am walking through study, but not just studying by walking with others. Studying by walking with you. Studying in movement, walking with you and talking about ideas, my thoughts, your thoughts, but not just. Talking about what to eat, or drink, when to sleep, how the rain is fogging up my glasses and I can’t see. Show me the
Instagram meme on your phone, ‘oh that dog is so cute’, but now it’s sniffing my leg, leaving its snotty drool on my jeans. It jumps up and barks. I shout out, ‘I love you!’ and a twig cracks and breaks underneath my foot. Interruption. I interrupt you. A pause. I pause you. I pass through you, and you can join me. Inside you. Inside your thoughts. Inside this one thought. I am eternally indebted to you, as I study with you and through you. I am inside you. You make me see. Rip my corneas out and point me in the right direction. But sorry, I took your essence. I took away your flow. I removed your spleen, your filter, and we must start over. We start again. Into study across bodies. Across space. Across things. A speculative practice of a general study. Will I study enough today, or enough at all, to ever understand enough about anything, or understand nothing in the first place? If I study today, will I understand more about myself, or about you? We study as I am sitting with you in silence. The house is slowly getting warmer as I am huddled under two blankets on the couch with my laptop on my lap. Typing. Studying. You sit crouched next to the window on your phone. It is big, looking out onto the busy street. Observe the fat pigeon; that branch is far too thin to hold its weight, as it ruffles its feathers and approaches another pigeon it tries to woo. I wonder if it likes the attention. I can hear the cars down below. Someone revs their engine at the traffic lights, *screech*, and the bird on the twig falls down. But, of course it doesn’t fall, it can fly, although its wings seem too small
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