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from I Wear Long Hair

Hildebrand Pam Dick

This ones black. As outside chance. Also bigger and unruly.

I dont want to be locked up! I cant quit thinking

tone

Notebook hair mood

Doubt or teeth. Truth under fingernail. Tighter interval
Dirt under
Dont eat that! But I am starving.
I forget the taste of Bounty. I could walk on 5th Avenue. I dont listen to their
Snickers. I look up at the Milky Way.
The same but darker.
Then saw a

No, its lighter, cloudy

comet
The thing about not
cleaning himself

Girls are supposed to clean. I mean be clean.

But I am called Hildebrand.
Unless Holden Brent.
Theres constant changing.
With already five dead books: Oscillator, Ruled Notebook, Unruled Notebook, Flaming
Sword, Hildebrands Travel Diary
die tone
so worn out
I cant keep
red thicket

Dick | 1

Also my v-neck sweater. Its grey wool, I lent it to my little brother. Except he took it
without asking. And my pants that zip or my maroon nylon jacket that zips like
before.
But brother and sister/brother should always share, especially if they
exist in the same dimensions.
I unzipped my chest
I am not sure about the spacing and the timing.
Immanuel is useless here. There is no God here. Wait. Excuse me, what does God
mean?
My little brother is named Gregory unless Stevie. Unless he is my friend, like Fredric
was Fredricks. I.e. Shelleys was Hugh Dillonsbut possibly not Holden Lems. Ditto
Georg Howel was.
Isaak becomes Igor or Gregor or Stefek or Stevie, Fredric becomes Stevie or Shelley,
Frederic becomes Stevie or Shirley or Sherrill, George becomes Gyorgy or Georgie or
Gregory or Stevie, Gregory equals Stevie, Gregory should be Grigor. No, Grigory.
I dont know who my friends are. Are there friends? Or only rooms? They have books
with names who can befriend you. Only the ones in books or who write them are my
true friends and comrades.
A friendship could go down the drain of the sink. Then the drain is slow and
clogged as if from lost hairs.
Your big head could sink low onto your weak chest, weigh it down.
Some people are funny and comfortable so the people laugh at them and
adore them.
Some people have a system or found one so they are very popular.
I thought, Quit laughing at me. Forget your Aufhebung! I dont want to be
liked anyway.

Dick | 2

It isnt charming when no personal hygiene of the Jesus tits with the halo
nipples. He was trans when they sewed him.
The problem is with reason i.e. discursivity
I dont want to think anymore!
I need to eat. I am starving from a longing
Jeanne DArc was given bread and a tower and rhythms with repeats by Robert.
No guards to bring me toast
I am not protected here
She was not protected there
They spied on her through the small hole in the defense
My room is getting very serious like a situational semantics
I never read that book. It was brick red and thick with technique flakes and
pump fakes.
Forget the logical machinery, its too heavy now that I am weaker. It
hurt my wrists ambivalence
Weak sex
Hugh lost his Susette. Once I had a Suzanne. Later I had a Liliane. Because
they meant the same flower.
She wouldve made me toast.
I stand up to go eat. I miss my grey v-neck sweater.
There is no first principle but there is a first poem. Is this it?
*
The desire is to flow like a river or how the ink spills out of your pen. But selfconsciousness.

Dick | 3

Two trees on the cover of the French experience:

self-knowledge and life/eternity.
The question of what is below the I.
Or is the I the basis, first premise or first pain or first poem?
Some notebooks have a line for the subject at the start like Johnni/Felix. This
notebook has lines all over but is collage-ruled like French fragments or the
rebellious, the remarks go wherever under the cover/hairdo.
I thought, I long to be frank but in German. Or German but in France!
A private Teuton? Two-tone like that book: The Orange and the Black.
How its cover still had orange streaks.
First orange, then black because charred.
Adolescent means growing so all are eternal adolescents or adolescent eternities
according to the German i.e. Absolute Idealists.
Thus two more novels:
Teen Ontology
God Vibrations
But how come theyre dead
furthermore, notebook vs. poem vs. novel?
Its really
hot in here and
theres no air
Some chunks fell from the ceiling of the sky, left holes. So terrible thoughts could
come through them. The room has features that are changing. The sense data
jamming its nervous system. Private language gag rule. Indubitable simples.

Dick | 4

Later it could devolve into wistful senseless doodles of a minor. Some noodling with
magic markers but a different idealism from that other Fredric aka Noel Wallis who
was a God premise.
There is no first poem or each poem is the first poem or there is only one poem, first
and last.
But that doesnt follow from anything. But it penetrated through the hole in the top
of your head.
But is the supreme metaphysical connective, so he said it. He said aber.
Sometimes my head wound hurts, even though it is the past.
The staples got removed.
*
The Alp could be French, Swiss, German, Austrian or Italian, therefore in different
languages. But there is also a private mountain of three weeks
Oh veer
O vain
Over
Could have been where it all started i.e. the end
Then bangs into Bertrand Russell qua comic book
The meanings of bangs blow up, fly off like my or my brothers spittle.
Russell means red, Bertrand means bright raven, raven means black. Ergo The Red
and the Black. The Bildungsroman in French. This translated into that, like novel
Julian or youth. Hugh Dillon did translations, Holden Brent did transpositions.
A German man went to France to be a private tear
It rhymes with hair
Or Tr or Turm or Tour or tour

Dick | 5

That was supposed to be finished already. It will never be finished, dead, whole.
Garrets incompleteness! Garret = Gdel + Kurt
How the world shrinks to an existentially bound window. Polite formalism
fortification. Versus paranoiac logic w/ non-identity.
All along the garret, sang medieval Jimi.
The tower of Hugh Dillon stayed yellow.
Its said that I have five months until I lose IT and they lock me up. All I will have
left is the I and the OVER-I. By the middle of December I was in a French notebook.
But now I am back in Switzerland, I mean Germany. But they speak French in
Geneva, dont they? But Geneva is universal like chocolate or the inchoate
indeterminate.
I want it. I want to be the It-girl.
No no, I want to lose It.
But this was supposed to be about him, not me. When will it?
Rhone = Rhein i + o. Being frank, you could lose yourself. The purity paradox?
That technique is worn out also. It yields no current revelation, only a stale cracker.
The feeling of nothingness streams in bits. You leave it but you return to it.
Therefore it must have been there before the excursus.
I hung around, ungermane. They had no use for me. I mean philosophy. My little
brother Gregory/Stevie said, Stick to natural subjects. Unless that was my older
brother Johnnie/Gunther or my other brother the other Stevie. Then my little brother
Gyorgy/Stevie who is another Gregory borrowed the sweater of philosophy as
poetry. But thats good because he is very brilliant and scintillating and we are close
in size as brothers or schoolmates at the Stift. But then he did not answer my
Romantic letter i.e. e-mail. I.e. epistolary novel. So no brotherly love journal with
varsity letters like a school sweater which all of us could wear.

Dick | 6

The page starts with Nichts, ends with niedrig. Being a nothing/nothingness/void
entails being low/inferior/humble. In between come words like incompetent, vague,
steel-rimmed spectacles, depressed, defeated, lay down, lie down, suppress, and
shatter. Spectacles can shatter like friendships. My friend/brother has glasses with
black plastic frames. No, that is I, his sister/brother, my brother wears contacts.
Then the view gets vague and blurry.
Indeterminate, universal, inchoate
versus
determinate, singular, developed
It takes whatever for a friendship or brotherhood to develop, whatever for it
to be eternal.
Snips or snippets connote cut-off hair or notes
Black hair once orange
France became Germany
Nobody knows exactly what happened in those three weeks. Perhaps we should
investigate further.
*
O.d. on night? I do a hit of his poem.
Wrong Key/Grundton/Doppelgnger (A Night Night Song)
Where are you, young licks! Doused, Im more mussed,
Destroyed, decked-out suicide, where are you, licks?
The hurt wakes, decks wrath,
Stammering night straitjackets my shimmer.
Once Id lack names, follow dusk crayons of woods, hark
To soft wild ones on the jungle gym, not the nothing!
Never dashed, a Hlder not dumb
Fable, since almost too lifted you came bird fast,

Dick | 7

So feeling or garden, detention ward

Slinging words as hertzes; where are you, licks?
The hurts awake but now huge
Ganglia of night pull me inward.
I was it, probably. Lips crack a grin,
Do young man flower dare, the first who undressed me.
And under the cool star-faces I leaned back,
But into the unnamable, only. And blue mirrored
The wild sad field, conjured a jogging
Demigod, a delivery guy, or that kid doing karate.
Now I sit still, silent, alone from one,
Far away from the others, spin cold shapes
Of young mad errors and clouds of love,
Since passion sickens whats between us, only my thinking;
And far distant I listen hard, in case the one
Rescuer friend (light!) would like to come to me.
Then often I hear the risk, strain of thunder
At midday, when he nears, the brass section,
When the house gulps and the floor
Buckles, and torments weird echo-chamber.
The rescuer I hear in the night, I hear
Him killing. The freer who fills the down one
Up w/ hopes crown like seekers faces
I see the ardent violent fire
But the days switch sides, when you discern
Zigzag in them, lovely and bad, a pain
Because you are two-headed, and it
Isnt recognized what is the best;
But that is the prick of the godlike; never
Can you love godly injustice otherwise
But the gods in the hood then!
Visibly there. The world is different.
Day! Day! Play tag w/ it because you can breathe, run
Drink the wide blocks, the eyes roving
Teen rockers stomping in young light past a
Dick | 8

Doorman w/ gold braids, and by yourself

Weirdly orbiting comet, you, appearing
You, purer ardor, freed lack, wake, and O!
How, as my father, the unsteady
Walked in wild clouds, urban, singed.
Now come to risk under the poems thicker armor
Take the switchblade of girlboy. The prophecys
Zero doesnt tear, and otherwise anguish waits,
Blasts the appearances, how heres licked, loss recursive.
*
The thing is, possibility should be teenhood, sensuous and
metaphorical which equals sensual, or how Petey turned into
a flawed superheroic youth, spinning fate from the wrists,
emitting it. But there are all these constraints on
freedom.
Then invented a device such as formal tonal alternation, w/ variation,
modulation:
Grundton, Kunstcharakter, Wirkung.
Your character is your Sprache. God = language! My brother Aloysius!
Difference has an emotional effect on the mind.
*
Her embedded letter, his embedded poem. How the dying.
So go homo like Hyperion in the work.
Homoerotic transmuting into homopoetic.
Or fuck, sing, cover his tune.
He, Holden Lem, wrote the poem, it is the original:

Dick | 9

Hlfte des Lebens

Mit gelben Birnen hnget
Und voll mit wilden Rosen
Das Land in den See,
Ihr holden Schwne,
Und trunken von Kssen
Tunkt ihr das Haupt
Ins heilignchterne Wasser.
Weh mir, wo nehm ich, wenn
Es Winter ist, die Blumen, und wo
Den Sonnenschein,
Und Schatten der Erde?
Die Mauern stehn
Sprachlos und kalt, im Winde
Klirren die Fahnen.

I, Holden Brent, rewrote the poem, it tries a translation:

Half Life
With yellow pears hangs
And full with wild roses
The shore in the lake,
You lovely swans,
And drunk on kisses
You dunk your heads
in water thats holy-sober.
Woe, where will I come, when
It's winter, on the flowers, and where
On the sunshine
And shade of the earth?
The walls stand
Speechless and cold, in the wind
Clattering vanes.
In the holy-sober water, in that holy-sober water, in the holysober water, in this holy
sober water, in that holysober water, in the holy/sober water, in holy-soberest
water, in holy and sober water, in water holy and sober, the waters holy & sober,
into holy/sober waters, inside holy sober water, in whats holy sober water, in its
Dick | 10

holysober water, in such holy sober-water, I dont know how to do the

heilignchternes Wasser, how to get it into my head, get my head into it, it keeps
seeming wrong, thrust my translation head into the line, get intoxicated, I cant get
no satisfaction, cant get me no satisfaction. At Nightsongs, compulsive masturbation
of the charge, charged pupil, electric charge of the student, dent in the Stus head,
should my name be Stu now? It half-rhymes with Hugh. To stew means to fume, be
mad and stay it. To be in a state of agitation, worry or resentment. To be stewed
means to be drunk when my father was in the 1950s. Stew means an agitated
mess, hysterical mood, a mishmash, mishmasturbation. Or a slut. If youre too
excited, it could make you stutter. Excited could be sexual. Erregt. Or it could make
you stutter in Stuttgart when you no longer remember how to strut anymore, be a
sex machine, but you are stiff. I mean stiff. But never mind that, if you are charged
w/ a lightning bolt on the private Alp or with some holy mission, how can you stay
sober? And if you are sober, arent you icy, dead? They put your head into a bucket
of ice to sober you up. So you see theres no hope, or she doesnt love you, or she
died and isnt coming back. She died inside you. She died inside your chest, her
chest died into your chest. Or in your consuming book, consumptive book, its all
consuming her, you, her in you, your head in her chest. Buried. But this is supposed
to be about Hugh Dillon/Holden Lem. Things he was. Or was feeling, writing, doing.
Or what is the difference? The subject, I as activity, implied Immanuel. Like the
affair or being in a state. State of affairs is a logico-philosophical term indicating a
truth-maker if it obtains, if possibility becomes fact.
Once upon a time there was a Holdenswain who had been turned into a Holdenswan
by the betrothed/husband of the sister/beloved Liliane/Susette, aka Ignatia/Diotima,
and had to fly away/flee. Now life was very sober, austere, somber. At night,
insomnia of waiting can be holy. Or a cold wall. The successful alpha male
philosopher-poets, the rosy ones who rose up, they stole her attentions, they
abandoned him
Woe, my woe, woe to me, oh, ah woe, alas, ah, o,
With yellow pears hangs, with yellow pears, with all yellow pears, with
bright yellow pears
The shore in the lake, the shore hangs in the lake, the land hangs in
the lake, the land hangs in the sea, the land in the sea
You lovely swans, o lovely swans

Dick | 11

You dunk your heads, you douse your heads, you drop your heads,
your dip your heads, you poke your heads, you thrust your heads
Its winter, on the flowers, and where, its winter, upon the flowers,
and where
And shade of the earth, and shading of the earth, and shadow of the
earth, and shatter
Walls stand, walls standing
Clattering vanes, clatter of vanes, clatter the vanes, the vanes clatter,
the vanes rattle, rattling vanes, clinking of vanes, creaking of vanes, chinking
of vanes, jingling vanes, weathervanes, vanes of weather, vanes of whether,
the vanes
produce
harmonic distortion
I cant getme no
no satisfaction
no no no no
hey hey hey
thats what I
say

*
Half of Dislodging
With yellow fear hang it
Umfall with
Does
Ear

wild

racing

Lenz tendency,
holding

swingng,

Undrunk infant
Inked ear

guessng
of head

Insel I, Nichts earned faster

Way more,

wo yellow ow , woe

Asphyxiate,d by
Dense
And

w/o
shattering

flower, wer

undo

appearance,
the

order?
Dick | 12

Dim hours

stain

Sprockets, and chains Im

Deafening

wound in

clinking .

Half of Lyric
With yellow
And

hangs

with

The

the
Swans,

And

from
You

head

In the holy

Woe to me, where

Winter

when

, the

The
Shades
Walls
Speechless

wind

Rattles

Halves of Life (He Said Acting vs. Being)

Hangs
Dunks
Takes
Stands
Dick | 13

Creaks
Yellow
Full
Wild
Lovely
Drunk
Holy sober
Speechless, cold

Half Punctuation
,
,

,
,
?
,
.

Have To Be Leaving
1

I gulp, burning w/ hunger

And vomit rotten Reeces

Dust lands on the said

Beholden swan song

And drinking vain kisses

To tongue her doesnt help

Woes mirror won him, me, when

The wounded wrist, the blemish, and woe

The sons end sign

10 The mourners strain

11 Speechless, and called by wind
12 Clearing the feigning
Dick | 14

Have Trial, Delusions (Schizophonic, aka I Will Teach Her to Be Male)

With yellow peers hang
Or veil with wild noises
The show in the lack
Hold all swan info
To sing means doublecross
Walk it off, dub
Jesus: holy, nocturnal, on water
Woe to me, who am I, when
A sweater does the blaming, and how
The sister swan,
(adult) is a pen?
Mute swans seen
To show homo or trans
(i.e. queer) behavior.

Rapid Cycler (Hlderlins/Hildebrands Poetics/Metaphysics)

With yellow pears hangs
Woe, where do I come when
But full with wild roses
Its winter, the flowers, and where
The land in the lake
The shiny sun
O lovely swans
But shadows of the earth day
But drunk from kissing
The walls standing
Dunk your this-head
Wordless and cold, in wind, uh
In the holy sober water.
Unclear i.e. drowning.

*
The Rhone. HI ROAD. That was in the other planet.
I meant plan

Dick | 15

Now the glasses arent sitting right so everythings blurry like the Milky Way. Or else
my vision has deteriorated.
Regarding the appearances: milk or dark?
There is so much to say that I will never
Unruly Notebook!
Him as fragment
Broken premises
Unbildungsroman
Unbelted novel
Where is
I do not know where to put
everything
meant to go?
*
I meant
to go?
The isolation

of borrows
paradoxes

The shred of paper like the ill end of

or all lend
on a paragraph

Where

is

this?
Pair is
perish?

Dick | 16

Or the recovered

fragment

Hlderfragment
Or cover

*
The beggar tone and the godman tone: alternations.
He worked on his tone
poems
Is there more?
Ill tell you when its ready.
Right now its
broken.
*
How the projects should take you into them, like loving sisters such as Heinrike,
Ottla, Grete, Clara, Lili. Or their brothers. But maybe they banish you
*
But I wasnt aka I didnt.
I left part of my name out, then I liked it better.
I walked like a dead man, is it because his philosophy is so much more optimistic
than mine?
Or because I undressed the concept of siblings?
My friend Gregory finally answered my letter. Unless that was my brother Grigor.
The building novel in amorous letters, the demolishing novel in isolated notes
ill morose
amorphous
all aimless

Dick | 17

Holden Brent or Hildebrand or Brand Ishmael or Hyper Ian? I could lose my mind
over the problem of the Is identity! How its always morphing.
I feel flat. The bad 2-dimensional.
Did a yellow taxi flatten me?
On pavement, they can repaint the white lines.
I havent thought about Jesus even though I ought to.
I havent felt Jesus.
He came not to make pieces but with a Hildebrand.
To make a pussy!
I ascended the staircase. My building is red outside, blue inside, like my mouth. Its
gums are blue, its stairs are yellow. Unless its walls are yellow, its teeth are blue.
With filled-in cracks.
I cannot see into the distance. My chest plates broken so I cant spin it like an LP.
Shards lay everywhere.
My father wasnt really. But my brother was. Another was Friedrich.
His nails grew long. His teeth were his identity. So they admitted it.
In the perambulator she bit the orderlies, using her savant talent.
The room grew serious. The laugh fell into the sink.
You dont need a bathtub. You can be frank in the sink. It has worn-out salvaged
fixtures.
I was still writing to salvage my philosophy qua poetry. But it has rusted and the
fragments are weird shapes. The opposite of a puzzle.

Dick | 18

Furthermore, this notebook isnt plain.

Truthful Notebook!
But thats because it cant be. It would be arrested.
On the first floor, a stranger/neighbor practiced his cello or viola or violin. I,
Hildebrand/Holden Brent, am so ignorant that I cant tell the difference.
Theres a pain in my mouth.
The milk is sour anyway.
Black hole milk. Aesthetics of the whole milk. The other way was pretentious.
The head sinks forward, low, the eyelids close. Frankly.
The final vinyl? Isnt that a tic? Like repeating clock? Aka mortality. Or when it
seemed she really loved me, in the dark, a prince is a half-king? Or demigod.
I wore a soul patch to be Apolo Anton Ohno, although he is half-Japanese, not halfChinese. Also I wore pads upon my sharp knees and sharper elbows. Skated away on
anorexic ice.
The sharpness is what will tear the nerve strands.
Theres a pain in my arm.
Lack of indents suggesting sorrow, weakness, defeat.
*

half-?

*
Its tough to work this out when everything keeps changing.

Dick | 19

Eye contact with friends becomes more seldom.

Mentally incompetent to stand trial
Franz and Josef K. aka Frank and Joe H. could be witnesses. But the mother threw
out the blue Hardy Boys collection.
Seth, Ben, Vivian, Bibi, Andrew: in high school, Holden Brent was very
popular.
Now she is populated with German, Logic and English so that no one/body
understands her. French a bluff, Latin a cover.
When they praise your wit, you should splinter from one to many and lose yours
versus keeping them about you. They should be about something else. I mean
become it. Ditto if they praise your charm.
But maybe that, too, is just an act, doublet.
Ill, scar, Dane = Scardanelli!
thematic ID bracelet statement
9/11 9/11 9/11
Going mad and being committed or starting a poetic notebook or murdering people
Black malted
Black milkshake
Black milkdud
Black threads
They stole the sign. Or I mean signs. Or actually signal.
workaholic

melancholic

sexaholic

alcoholic

Dick | 20

hole/ich
Freedom? I dont understand that yet. Free verse was a hairstyle or vertical logic w/
the identity predicaments.
Its a compulsion but its also pleasurable.
I will hide by myself. I do not wish to publish, I wish to perish.
Unlike Stevie, whose
flopping is a pose.
The yellow tower comes afterward.
The yellow tower is an afterword.
They were kidnapping me. They kidnapped me and took me to a how-to-write clinic.
The long fingernails and toe nails. The long unwashed hairdo. Locked-in syndrome.
No, dont rush to that. Today you are hygienic like that good 16 year-old son Gregori
who finally gets his own room away from his 12 year-old brother Stefan or his
former self with make-out parties. Before the death class with the graph paper
notebook.
After seven minutes in heaven i.e. the foyers walk-in closet with the young boys,
you get discharged from the army of good soldiers w/ brave little woods. Given three
years to live, you end up living on for thirteen. But I thought you only had five
months. Oh, that was beforehand
action or inaction
stricken by
Her unfinished work B V ~B, aka Helmet, P. of D. showed signs of mental
interiorization.
Her unvarnished work B & ~B, aka Holden, Prince of Dark Ink showed signs of
spiritual deterioration.

Dick | 21

My room is very sincere now. It nods eagerly.

Jesus was an admirable carpenter. So I necked with him.
I have hair low on the back of my neck, its a line like a boys.
The river is called Nestor in this book as well as in the other one. The other river is
called Ernest.
In the birds nest hairdo, there sit options of calls.
Or Esther or Ezra or Easter or Esau. The name is bisexual. Form of the godman!
The recurring motif of the piano
he banged it
Franz Schuberts late piano sonatas
One was played over and over in Roberts
movie about the trial of the teen saint/heroine
There existed another Robert. Maybe two of them. The third
was a figment.
Being pianissimo and fluent and singeing my hair shall be the activities.
This isnt philosophy.
Or conversely, what isnt philosophy?
Its been a long time since Ive cried. But it cost me bitter tears when I decided to
leave my father now. Perhaps its good. But who is more dear to me in this world?
But he is no use to me. But he will continue to be germane.
I think that was before, when Hildebrand was still saving himself. So he departed for
the border. Its smooth and fully drinkable.
Words can be drunken in.

Dick | 22

Not staying in the moment because you want to hold on to something like a proof or
narrative or system.
Then you scrape your head on something or something scrapes your head.
Such as yellow.
Scared sick (= ill).
A tear. A yellow scar. A brand. Obsessive perturbation.
This poetry has to be transubstantiated into philosophy. Or no, this philosophy into
poetry, because he quit the battle. But isnt it still secretly philosophy? Or like the
godman?
But if he doesnt talk about a paradox, can I talk about the paradox and still
be him?
But I should be the paradox!
A pain word is a groan.
My mouth hurts.

Dick | 23