There is a scientific paper sitting on the table next to me. Halfway through the first page the text turns into a series of dots and greek characters. In turn this reminds me of the wordmapper program I worked on until three last night. The display module graphs each word as a dot in two-dimensional space and I was tweaking with the variables last night, watching the dots swarming and forming strange patterns.

The symbol of my discontent. I fear more than slightly that everything will be revealed to be thus. Lovely patterns, greek characters, nonsense. That there is a thin layer of latex between me. Deliberate sexual metaphors and no creation. Clocks marking no time no change.

The inevitable night. I want to stop sleeping. There is a character in Shame who sleeps for only 40 minutes a night but this is because of a nightmare and not that he fears as I do dying in my sleep. Again a vague metaphor: the steady rot of things I have accumulated. Gkc says sleep is a sacrament but it’s done me no good at least; never have I woken with more than I left: desires winnow and thinned, remembrance dissolves, and all I am repaid is dreams vague as metaphors.

What am I going to find, anyway? If as I would really like I could map not small words and synonyms but symbols and ideas: fishes words birds feathers water blood bones. Would there be a Fish or a Bird? the Word? (seeking to become atoned with the Father). Or dots dots circular dots, signified and signifier, meaningless and meaninglesser:

orpheus; my own tears I have changed names for you.