when an account of typhoid fever before death is the most accurate description i can find written about the mental state i suffer from in cycles?  Great, that’s just what i need, to become a hysteric over imaginary drastic physical ailments.  Luckily, I think I’m way too lazy for that.

Once in the garden she found herself pulling off her clothes.  She felt a vague surprise that her actions should go on so far ahead of her consciousness of them.  Every movement she made seemed the perfect expression of lightness and grace.  ‘Look out,’ said a part of her.  ‘Go carefully.’  But it was the same part of her that sent out the warning when she was drinking too much.  At this point it was meaningless.  ‘Habit,’ she thought.  ‘Whenever I’m about to be happy I hang on instead of letting go.’  She kicked off her sandals and stood naked in the shadows. (Bowles, 246)

(Sounds slutty, but she is just going for a swim alone in the dark.)

This is my favorite story I’ve stumbled upon in an online lit mag in a long, long time.

avoid becoming entangled emotionally

https://sites.google.com/site/rhpchaphoshomccreesh/ask-the-spider

And this one can feel.

She can see.

and it reads:

Whoever wants to see will see badly: It was my will that
deceived me. It was my will that provoked the huge uproar among
the daimons. Should I therefore not want’anything? I have, and I
have fulfilled my will as well as I could, and thus I fed everything
in me that strived. In the end I found that I wanted myself in
everything, but without looking for ,myself Therefore I no longer
wanted to seek myself outside of myself but within. Then I
wanted to grasp myself and then I wanted to go on again, without
knowing what I wanted, and thus I fell into the mystery:

In a letter to Arthur Fischer-Colbrie (December 18, 1925) Rilke wrote:
That a person who through the horrible obstructions of those years had felt himself split to the very depths of his soul, into a Once and an irreconcilable, dying Now: that such a person should experience the grace of perceiving how in yet more mysterious depths, beneath this torn-open split,the continuity of his work and of his spirit was being re-established—this seems to me more than just a private event. For with it, a measure is given for the inexhaustible stratification of our nature; and many people who, for one reason or another, believe that they have been torn apart, might draw special comfort from this example of continuability. (The thought occurs to
me that this comfort too may somehow have entered into the achievement of the great Elegies, so that they express themselves more completely than they could have done without endangerment and rescue.)