three posts from mastodon

by uzwi

In this nightmare of yours, the book you’re writing discovers you as you discover it. You both discover a “self”, but retrospectively; & by the time you’ve finished, both you & the book are obsolete. All you’ve found out is who you used to be. That self can’t write the next book, which is already waiting around whistling tunelessly & looking at its watch. The process is circular & cyclic, with an emergent product always delivered late. Worse: any sense you have of yourself as being “in control” of what happens between you & the book is always-already undermined…

In a subsequent nightmare, you go out fishing & after a struggle land a gigantic fish. The fish turns out to be made of a thousand ill-fitting bits & pieces: you, the fishing rod, the bait, the lake, the trees on the shore of the lake, a man on a horse who was riding past up to half a mile away &–most of all–the intention to fish.

Only the most reckless fisherman would take that home & eat it. & yet you dream you already have.