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the archive(s):
issue no. 5:
(no title yet) ii / Ilya Zaychik
II.
Logic: if A then B and not C. Outstanding. More and more I begin to see that A is very much like C and B has already occurred several times. On some intellectual level we understand that existence, now more than ever before, is full of contradictions, and on that same level we accept this realization. But in our heart of passionately rational hearts we refuse to accept it. We yearn for grid patterns, definitive answers and conclusions, structure and direction, highways you can see down for miles, but that parade brings us to 'before', back then, the streets we've already crossed, the old city. Immediately we head north, wanting nothing to do with ancient mistakes, preferring current disasters, once we can learns from. The walk brings us back to the mental rotary where we began, unable to discern between exits A, B, and C. We take one road, finally, and the pattern continues.
This problem, this paradox, is not new or original. In one way or another, everyone cuts to the core of the issue, yet do not, can not, resolve it. Movement implies this failure. Moving forward implies it. The word 'forward' demands this. Language beats you until you understand this, and I, frankly, am bloodied. And it's one of those things, once you see it, you see it everywhere, like how often people say 'like' or where they look when they are lying about how many times they say it. You become obsessed, everything smattered with doubles‹colors, sounds, nouns, clothes, groups, etymologies‹and you wonder why no one else is paying attention to this, which leads you to believe that you're clued into the inner workings of some great machine that you can't escape but only you can understand. You see faults in the machine, see it falling apart, but can't do anything. You tell friends, they nod, smile, and inch towards the door. Soon you're feeling a lot like Raskolnikov in a Kafka novel, starting to think you and schizophrenics are on to something. But the joke is on you. Tap-tap. Huh? Look up: this is everyone's lonely struggle together.
But you snap out of it, accept it, process it the best you can, relegate it to some deep part of the mind, and get on with your life. Now you see it, sure, but as an image or an idea you read in a book or saw in a dream‹a relic of past infatuation, like a picture of an old girlfriend, or an album you once could not stop listening to‹no longer inspiring that maddening emotion, neither attraction nor revulsion. Just a dusty memory of another mad, tortured, divided person, who happens to bear a striking resemblance to a whole, complete, you. An object in motion remains in motion...
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