Current 49

[Kai Frederik Lorentzen]

.. At some indefinite passage in night's sonorous score, it also came to her that she would be safe, that something, perhaps only her radiating hyperstonedness, would protect her. The City was hers, as made up and sleeked so with the customary words and images (cosmopolitan, culture, cable cars) it had not been before: she had safe passage tonight to its far blood's branching, be they capillaries too small for more than peering into, or vessels mashed together in shameless municipal hickeys, out on the skin for all but tourists to see. Nothing of the night's could touch her; nothing did. The repetition of symbols was to be enough, without trauma as well perhaps to attenuate it or even jar it altogether loose from her memory. SHE WAS MEANT TO REMEMBER. She faced that possibility as she might the toy street from a high balcony, rollercoaster ride, feeding-time among the beasts in the zoo --- any death-wish that can be consummated by some minimum gesture. She touched the edge of its
 voluptuous field, knowing it would be lovely beyond dreams simply to submit to it; that not gravity's pull, laws of ballistics, feral ravening, promised more delight. She tested it, shivering: I am meant to remember. Each clue that comes is supposed to have its own clarity, its fine chances for permanence. But then she wondered if the gemlike 'clues' were only some kind of compensation. To make up for her having lost das direkte epileptische Wort, the cry that might abolish the night....
 
(The Skrying of Lot 49) 
 
 
Fanny
 
 
 
 
 
    

		
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