the baser elements

As the complex process of coordinating more than fifty muscles begins, control switches from the upper brain to the brain stem, the place where our most basic drives and reflexes are stored…. Scientists call this push-pull action of the muscles the agonist and antagonist.

This is not about sex. It’s about handwriting.

Points of comparison, however, are abundant. Both start as self-conscious acts: a need to sate or be sated, a page to fill. There are physical elements that establish parameters and determine which conventions are appropriate to the context. There are emotional elements that contribute to one’s perception of the final product.

The body knows what it wants to say and will find a way to say it. Words stretch out in snaky lines across the page. They move of their own volition. The brain lags at least three letters behind; it takes that long to catch up or catch on, to any mistake.

I’ve got this great little book from 1978 called Know Yourself through your Handwriting. About my varying slant, threads, and other characteristics, it says: This is the writing of an unpredictable person with changing inclinations. It is the kind of writing often found in teenagers when they are unsettled and experimenting with all kinds of thoughts and ideas, trying to find the most acceptable way of life. It falls short of determination and stamina, but I may be a highly original thinker.

And what about that love letter I’ve been carrying around everywhere with me like the teenager I probably still am? The person with stiff angular connections is firm, strong-minded, uncompromising, tense. His sharp strokes may suggest a puritan streak, a lack of sensuality, and interests that are predominantly intellectual and spiritual. They may suggest something else.

saturation point

Folds by Anthony Easton (I think)

It is repeatedly said that in the digital age, everything is available, and nothing is special. In terms of data, perhaps this is true. Whether it is poetry or pornography, data flows from an inexhaustible source. You can’t touch it or feel it; one little click and it is gone.

A similar kind of data can be contained in a touch or a weekend, a day. Maybe two. The connection is tenuous at first, uncertain, tremulous, and all the more exciting for it. Confidence builds quickly. Other feelings do too. They may reach a peak more than once, or not at all.

In time, the body will prove a poor database. When the object of desire is no longer at hand, assuming it ever was, it will be impossible to retrieve uncorrupted. The smell of skin, a sunlit castle, a two-colored cat, a wave moving toward you and receding to the depths.

When the point of saturation is reached, any further collection of data is superfluous, in the sense that it yields nothing new. Analysis breaks down; repetition takes its place.