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epitome of incomprehensibility
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Dear Courage,:
Am I supposed to use a comma or a colon? Will you be offended if I use both?
I want you, but not for your body. I want you for your phenomenology. Make me part of something phenomenal. Real applications press on me and parody ones depress me, for a change. I guess it's a refreshing change, because sense and nonsense exist in relation to each other and are defined by each other, and I'm stealing this from Derrida's reading of that big Michel Foucault study on madness and reason, which I haven't read in the original because I don't believe in that "aura of authenticity" stuff. You can't see authenticity, you can only hear it.
Being organized makes me sad. It's like something I can see but not hear, and I know I'm not as good at the language as people who grew up pretending they didn't have a minor disability, like the chord structure of hypochondria (C-E-B, if you're curious.) Can you help me, courage?
Thank you in advance.
P.S. Why is Handel's ghost afraid of me? I only want to shake his invisible hand.
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