A spiritual flea bath, an insomniac somnambulist, dreaming, words, and a leg-hold trap

***

The dog which fears its flea‑bath, bites its benevolent master.

Those who do not turn towards the sun, are shone upon no less.

There are no options, as such, only a corner that I am perpetually coming to without knowing what lies just around the bend. On a winding, mountain highway one cannot chance to view the scenery, one must look straight ahead, though the way be not at all straight. One must keep moving.

An insomniac somnambulist: one cannot fall asleep because one cannot wake up.

I had a dream that I was not dreaming, and now that I have apparently woken up, I am not convinced that I am not still dreaming.

We do, we go here and there, do this and that, read, run, ride, travel, play, write, talk, cook, help, like, love, and hate. We do, as if doing was better than not watching the television, that is not worth watching.

Words are the howls of a wounded animal, frantically caught in a leg-hold trap.

***

These fragments are taken from unpublished writings by Jack Haas, selected from the notebooks 1990-2005.