Notebook (archive fever/fever archive)

January 22, 2012 § Leave a comment

He remembers his fever-dreams of a year before: his body crushed by three layers of duvet & blankets, alternately running with sweat & shivering, he thought he was a dancer enacting the entrapment of a slave in the notorious ships’ bowels, a scenario that invaded & grew hideously real in his body. (He can be prevailed on to dance, but not like that.) Occasionally he thinks that what was worse was waking to the emptiness of another day of fending for himself, of knowing his sickened being had no purchase on the notice of others. Or rather the other, Barthes’ X at whose mercy he exists, the beings whose very seemingly limitless charm was precisely what destroyed his ability to get some phenomenological grasp on them. (He thinks of Kane & his paperweight, the metonym of an entire world of frozen desire: the fetish, according to Freud, functions by overvaluation, substituting as it does for the object at the centre of traumatic memory). He thought so often of her in his delirium, it seemed this was how they would always be: him caught behind the walls of a numbed touch, of blurred sight, of impossible speech, of impotent anger. His throat burns.

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