There Was A Writer

Written by Caden Lovelace on January 23, 2013
Arranged by Hannah Hoskisson on January 31, 2013
Published in Issue 006

there was a writer
who stated that only
when we are
f r e e
of the chains of grammar
will we have true
revolution, and I think
this might well be the case

but have you ever been typing
for example
a lot of kisses to someone

x x x x
x x x x
x x x x

and then been caught
in a sort of war in
which one tries to type
more than another
and then you are tempted
to copy
and paste these letters
but somehow it feels wrong,
like the x’s themselves,
and the pressing of.

the key is:
a real sublimated kiss
you are giving them.
maybe it is, however --
there is that contact
and that pressure
and that yielding of
f l e s h


and then...
you might extend it
and all these ctrl-c
and ctrl-v muck it up
but sometimes,
I do it anyway.
(just to win)

and I feel guilty about it
but there is no way for them
to tell (is there?)
but my point is:
that there are these mediations
that in digital means nothing;
for instance:
is this ‘s’ the same
as this ‘s?’ are they different?
or are they the same thing,
mirrored in two places?

they exist in memory
separately --
but in memory

they are not characters at all,
but something else:
physical, electrical
not even numbers, really,
but something totally coincidental
and irrelevant really

what of the kisses then?
are they the fingers,
motion captured by the keyboard
like a webcam might capture
the appearance of a kiss
or are they something else?
are all these
x   x   x   x   x
the same networked kiss?
or are they all separate?
are the kisses
others the same kiss as mine?
or is it unique that my fingers
perform these actions?
I guess I am talking about
the ontology of the
did you know that the ‘x’
is a ‘kiss’ because
before most people could write,
they would sign contracts with
their feudal lords with an ‘x’
and they would kiss the ‘x’
to imbue their word into their signature
in the same way they had been

taught to kiss the bible
to sign their word
to keep its’ word
the x is, too, the christian cross
xxxxxxxx xxxxx

and Borges wrote of a language
made up of three letters
in sequence,
e n d l e s s l y
repeated, which created
non-repetitive meaning by
modifying every previous letter

and when I kiss you,
then you are kissing
what was made by
everyone I kissed
since I was young and nervous

but then with every kiss,
you are kissing more of yourself
and I am kissing more of me,
which I guess explains the
eventual and inevitable boredom.
and why?

kissing new people is
always so exciting
as it is the really
the last naive one
(x x x xxx x x x xxx x x x)
but I want to ask you
to do something for me:

I do not know who you are
reading this. whether you are
running this site
or editing
or sending
or punctuating
or anything --
I want you to change
the o r d e r
of the characters.

I want you to swap
this ‘x’ and this ‘x’
and I want you to
move this
to this

and I want you
to move other letters,
until the letters start to
feel as though they are

in the wrong place
even though they are
and you can move them
out of place, too,
(but only if no one ever knows)