Machinations of the Art’s Content

Taking a break from not writing to write, thinking what, if anything, is the Santanero literary movement. More fiction, right? Constructed or otherwise or even nothing. I recently ( a few minutes ago) took a look at project two (that is, book 2) and felt it wasn’t as bad as I had previously thought it was. I haven’t worked on it in months. Though I haven’t worked on it, I’ve certainly thought about it and the 1st project (M.A. Project) and their connectivity, if any. This project necessitates lyrical threading, perhaps even lyrical restructuring. It’s more fractured and broken than its predecessor. The search within the text also serves different and not so different purposes. It’s more than fragments of time piled and sculpted into some figment of my mind’s heart’s eye. I think of the ground on which this project is based and feel how the stories may tilt so hard they may collapse. Perhaps the heart will collapse. The idea of the heart. The mind eyes what the heart feels. That search from the 1st project bleeding into the 2nd project, breaking. How the 2 projects interact and will shape the 3rd. That’s how I think I feel about the project. One Giant Project. And often I think about book 0- That is, the book that’s often alluded to in the 1st project, I think, those 140 pages of nothing, sometimes I wish so hard I hadn’t erased that project all those years ago, yes, I was young, and it was terrible, but if one thing at all it served a relevant function I didn’t truly see at the time, one that would have benefited the project and all other projects. Things would have appeared much more ordered. The list would have appeared thusly:

Book 0: (Jesus) Incognito (2002) [destroyed]
Book 1: Falling Into Being (2010)
Book 2: Untitled
Book 3:

And perhaps I should mention that book 2 begins as four separate beginnings, four different attempts at the project, that instead of deleting and starting over, the sections were retained and used. Irrelevant. I can’t even think of titles for 3. And then I think, “Do I need a title.?” Then I think, “Why would I think that?” And then a connection to the past creates itself. Reflections crossing, bridging their existence between times. I want the project to break

at
                   

                        certain        
            

                                                   sections,        

                           and    

 

behind        

                                

                                  the text

    perhaps

                      nothing

feels
          so
                       real

as

            the

                      creation

            of

                

            
 
   

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