Saturday, September 02, 2006

tHE iNEXPRESSIBLE*

Good morning, Doctor. Might I not beg you to loosen the truss around my bobbin? I dreamt, yes indeed, but not dreams or rebuses, but rather a Mardi Gras of unconscious gratifiers, a blissful Fort/Da with helix and thread. All screams are primal, an inherent need to express the inexpressible, a Will to Power, a Nietzschean yeah-say. Janov knew this (did he not?) and used it to heal distemper and angst, the primordial squeal. I’d rather repress the irrepressible and be done with screaming all together. Such is such, I suppose, or some such nonsense and decanter.

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"Poetry is the short-circuiting of meaning between words, the impetuous regeneration of primordial myth". Bruno Schulz