I love the immersion in excess that it gives me. I'm reminded of Robert Smithson's essay on "a pile of language." There is that Stein/Williams emphasis on a certain kind of materialization, it allows for the contradictory impulse of destructiveness. There is a strong sense of erasure, that unlike writing that is intended to fix finalize and preserve, here forgetting is just as important. You engage in an activity that is one of forward motion, A relentless running over cliffs, rushing toward its own destruction which has always already occurred. You're making space by way of dislocation, the constant jarring filling of pages that empty just as fast.