an image diary

"And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you'd be? ... You'd be nowhere. Why, you're only a sort of thing in his dream! If that there King was to wake you'd go out -- bang! -- just like a candle!"

"Hush! You'll be waking him, I'm afraid, if you make so much noise."

"Well it's no use your talking about waking him when you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you're not real."

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

. . .

IMG_2005



#3

About the body of the Father--which is about your body, too--almost all of both of you is immediately taken up into my father's metonymical body where the triunal integration of you--God, Priest, Father--is dismembered into parts of him that still stand in for entire fields of me where I am missing.

My father is missing.

So I keep asking, though not aloud, do you know what you are doing? The father as signification and as the end of signification, as law and as the end of law, the father's name, the father's no: he is so unwieldy. And so often absolute. Entire fields cleared, every limb of him erected in his stead--monuments, dwelling places, towers--where else am I to put you but in the places he prepared? And in such close quarters?


***

"and what is the use of a book...without pictures or conversations?"


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