Stepping into the dream

 Posted by at 10:41 am  Hitting the Potholes  Comments Off
Aug 012013
 

tripe stew131

In the last few days I have made a (perhaps foolhardy) start on William H. Gass’s The Tunnel. I’m reminded of starting out on the Everest of David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest: this is going to dominate for a while, quite a while. Anyway, the point of this is some words I have just read on page 85: ‘Memory. Mine is fragile . . . fragile . . . only paper; my sanity film thin.’ Yes, I say, I know what you’re talking about. And this is in the context of his protagonist reflecting on a dream he has had. That makes sense to me because some mornings it seems that the dreams have taken over or at least their potential of taking over appears dangerously close. Mr Ego, the day manager, has the ambition of everlasting power but is, even now, trembling on the edge: he should be and he is feeling dizzy, he is being given notice: don’t think that you have some sort of permanent contract. The grinning skull mask of our favourite Chancellor hovers in the mist before him. He suddenly realises that he too is like the rest of his staff. We are all on one of those whizzy little zero hours contracts. Yes the dreams will take over.

 

And while we are on the subject of dreams, quite suddenly I have a concern about what the long term effects are of all the advertising that we have been subjected to over the past sixty years. Particularly TV advertising. Bamboozled into drugs and slavery!

 

Dear Dr Bomboka, I want to make a request, to ask for your advice . . . You see, although this is a problem that I do my best to ignore, and some of the time Iactually succeed, sorry . . . to get to the point, what can one do about feebleness? No matter what I do I remain essentially feeble. It might be part of the human condition. I might have left it too late. But is there a pill, a spell, an incantation, a ritual, is there a prayer. Please help. Don’t delay in your answer. Yours in faith, a sufferer.