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Men have called me mad, but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence--whether much that is glorious--whether all that is profound--does not spring from disease of thought--from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect. Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night - Edgar Allen Poe

Hey J.A.N.
I'm w/you in this depression thing. Was Workspace just some experiment in creative bipolarity? Some people managed to locate their own individual therapies: Kathy and her clay (shit) and Ed and his puppets (penis), while I'm still drinking myself to death (piss) and worthless blog. How's your Oedipal thing going, anyhow?
Love and self loath.
gee



I can't help the things I do
Tho' they might seem strange to you
Got my mind, just spinnin' round
Inside, outside, upside down
There's an art to all this madness
Tho' it seems insane to you

There's a rhyme to all the reason
In everything I do
Have you any imagination
Of what I'm goin' through
There's art to all this madness
I'm just crazy over you

People just can't understand
They don't think I'm a normal man
So tell me why they walk around
Using half of their brain
You tell me now who's insane
There's an art to all this madness
Tho' it seems insane to you

There's a rhyme to all the reason
In everything I do
Have you any imagination
Of what I'm goin' through
There's art to all this madness
I'm just crazy over you

Art of madness
Art of madness, ooh
Art of madness

I went to the doctor the other day
Just to make sure if I was ok
The diagnosis said I was totally insane
I found out the doctor used half of his brain
There's an art to all this madness
Tho' it seems insane to you

There's a rhyme to all the reason
In everything I do
Have you any imagination
Of what I'm goin' through
There's art to all this madness
I'm just crazy over you

Art of madness
Art of madness, ooh
Art of madness


Here's some recent J.H. Prynne:

Profuse reclaim from a scrape or belt, funnel do

axial parenthood block the mustard dots briefly

act forward, their age layer for layer in this

tied-off accession. Appellate at dictum at

its debit resonance fixing prolusion, optic rage

performs even dots right now. This is the top

passion play and counted out for renewal patch,

allergic his dispute braving off. Make a dot

difference, make an offer; these feeling spray-on

skin products are uninhabitable, by field and stream.

Tell us, only for as many as crowd in through

the door to the diluvium, the romance of a new

organic dyscrasia vibrato fretting its early bits

on release on ambit. Early grief, late woe ahead.

This poem appears on the first page of Unanswering Rational Shore, a pamphlet published by an obscure Glasgow press named Object Permanence - "If you'd like to eyeball a 20-page verbal pie that dissolves the difference between nouns and verbs, and speaks of romance and international politics in a single, Kant-defying, garlic-aroma breath (ie Unanswering Rational Shore by J.H. Prynne), send a cheque payable to Peter Manson for £2.50 (P&P included) to Peter Manson Object Permanence, Flat 3/2, 16 Ancroft Street, Glasgow, G20 7HU. Don't forget to include your own address. Sonnet the alarum-scarum!!" - and mailed by the reclusive cult poet to a handful of correspondents. My envelope was franked at Gonville and Caius College on 15 October.

I trust this all looks familiar.
jc garrett