Thursday, January 26, 2012

page 106

the present becomes powerfully overwhelmingly vivid and material Zelda is an angry dog she barks at the people as they walk by her window the mailman is afraid to bring her the mail Zelda once attacked the paperboy and bit him in the leg her language requires her to accept her sexual identity doggy style with the mailman and the paperboy she wants to discover conception she is not convinced about the sincerity of others she assumes a sexual identity becomes a woman and loves a man yet her emotional responses are dissimilar to a humans there are questions which Zelda cannot answer she explodes when asked to tell us about the good things associated with her mother I think some of you would explode also at this point in the questioning for others the trigger would be your father she has had it both ways an image provides the right to exist photograph mother history the missing link between past present and future the that which has been your past still haunts you the trace of the dream of unity of the impossibility that which is incomprehensible we enter into the paradox it becomes us and changes us in many different ways we are pushed out like waste by the paradox when it is done using use when it has extracted from us are vital life force the imaginary exists as a loss the all-nourishing mother transformed into memories monuments of the past the wind and rain beat against her breaking her down little by little do you come to worship here anymore does anyone come to worship by the statue of your memories Zelda plays the piano to recapture a memory her memories escaped her and now she is busy trying to catch them to bring them back to her forcing them back into her mind she needs her memories a seduction she lays across the photographs and plays with herself I can hear her calling out daddy daddy as she rubs away at her memories her black and white snapshots of her past world her mobility is the result of her perverse confusion she cannot tell the difference between the present and the past she induces a belief in me that she is alive her body is a formality the belief and hope that I am alive the status of memory has changed I remember you or do I could it be that I have convinced myself to remember so that I have a justification the past is a collection of images and the right or wrong meanings we attach to them to prove our right to existence I deserve to be here in the now because I was in the past my past existence justifies my current existence there is a difference between the thing itself and its images establishing well-founded madness or true love I am the possessed I am the lover Zelda wants to distinguish the pure from the impure she wants her lovers to be true and not false proceeding once again through the means of irony the circulation of souls she is hiding under the dictionary pages looking at her shoulder blades moving her collar back and forth fitting only the archaic god himself a mirage the evil power of the falsehood that lie you told in the backroom division pursues and achieves its goal the bloody hand the pointing finger the piercing above your eye Zelda intrudes and insinuates discovers in the flash of an instant as she leans over the abyss the idea from the image implying a perversion an essential turning away this is what you do you close me out you draw your circle without me I stand outside of you not feeling you an iconic copy of a replica I have resisted you and now I am no longer real to you I have

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