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the camera movements of the mind take it in but not all at once, a shot here, a shot there, swing left swing right, zoom in zoom out, cut. edit. try to put it all together as a narrative, as something that makes sense, some kind of sense, any kind of sense but nonsense; but there is no sense, all of the senses may be working overtime, one two three four five, but nothing is making sense, sense has stopped making sense. in this nice house on the lake.

the fragmentation the fragmentation, alas! 'tis the human conundrum! 'tis how the alien in this nice house on the lake thinks and perceives reality, 'tis why the humans in this nice house on the lack construct their own experiences, their own lives, their own selves. they fragment and they try to put back together, they try to create linearity.

the intersections of structure, the intersections of body and mind and time and place and space both outer and inner... they trap these guests in this nice house on the lake. will there be an escape possible, in the secret places in this superstructure, in its shadowy spaces, its angles and substructures? they can only hope, these permanent residents of this nice house on the lake.

all abstractions, all generalizations, treat words and images and people and thoughts as units existing in some matrix of comparison. the doctor, the pianist, the politico, the artist(s), etc. et al, all the participants in this study taking place in a nice house on the lake... all treat the story as substance. all treat their own selves as having some substance, a genuine identity, rather than a label or title to be fulfilled. all attempt to communicate. all fail. their last communication, for now, for when, is a bullet. it fails. but that was the plan all along, to fail. to fail is to keep living?

I liked this sequel, it worked for me.

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read this amazing essay "Fragmentation of the Self" that has nothing to do with a nice house on a lake, but I stole some phrases and ideas from it anyway: