‘Void’ you say, as you play with the dynamics of anonymity.
‘Perec! Perec!’
Is that a bird I can hear?
And there is a middle aged man . . . Can’t do much with him! Is it TS Eliot at the age of 43 or perhaps 53? Or poor old BKS Iyengar dead and only a middle aged yogi at the age of 95. Surely those eyebrows are a sure sign of yogic maturity. If it is then all I have to do let my eyebrows grow, stop trimming them every few weeks and I too could be a yogi. But which celebrity would endorse me and lift me into the rarefied, possibly drug and alcohol fuelled, sexually abusive world of the famous, wealthy and powerful.
And, furthermore, I didn’t hear you asking the important questions: what are the political implications of psychoanalysis? What is the loss we must account for? And can I learn to love? Who is this middle aged man? I don’t mean ‘who’ is he, rather, what is he doing in your piece of writing? Is he a dope fiend? Has he been in analysis for the last twenty years? In which case perhaps he has an answer to my first question. Or, alternatively, is he an ancient student of BKS Iyengar?
Or is he a short sighted poet?
‘Perec! Perec’!’
There’s that bird again. Calling us to the void. Or to avoid. Calling us to anonymity. Calling us towards the full stop.
