I know that I'm living out a certain script right now and that my ability to change the plot entirely simply may not be in my control right now. But I'm going to try, to the best of my admittedly depleted strength, to fight it where I can. To follow the advice of the Lawyer and get rid of the timesucking people in my life--and, more so, to be honest with myself about who those people are. Starting with people like K.
In that spirit, I quote Bob Dylan: "The things you have the hardest time parting with are the things you need the least." I have taped this over my desk.
More on this later; I didn't sleep well after last night's incidents and could use a nap before dinner and the evening's work.
I was getting back into the Tennyson groove today and came across twenty-two pages of notes that I prepared when I was working on the abstract for this paper. To give you an index of how traumatic October and November were: I have absolutely no recollection of writing them out. None.
About Me
- the other woman
- "She did not know if she did it on purpose, but she lived as a fatality the necessity of destining her pleasure to the absent one, who moreover was not always the same, the other of the other always possibly being an other. This is naturally, and here I have to quote her, a 'surplus' of always available pleasure, and a 'fatal deprivation.' After a silence: the day that I love someone, man or woman, I am certain, or I believe that it will stop, in any event this is how I will recognize love. I have loved a lot, however, without ever abandoning myself to those I loved, presently I mean. And up to the present. Another silence (I had already asked for the bill) and without anything provocative or vulgar, with a kind of confidence which I still like to think of: I have the feeling that with you [vous] it would be different." (Derrida, Envois)
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