horse: a psychodramatic enactment of a fairytale

by

Ania Walwicz

Diploma in Visual Art Victorian College of the Arts1974

Post-graduate Diploma in Visual Art Victorian College of the Arts1976

Post-graduate Diploma in Education University of Melbourne 1984

Submitted in fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of

Doctor of Philosophy

Deakin University

September 2016

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contents

abstract iv

acknowledgements v

the film site vi

photo vii

preamble 3

post script 25

horse 31

epilogue 117

bibliography 118

 

 

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abstract

horse functions as an interplay of creative writing and theory, storytelling and

analysis, psychoanalytical ideas and personal reflection. The thesis works

within the hybrid genre of creative writing practice with theoretical awareness –

as fictocritical practice. A psychodramatic enactment in the theatre of language

and image, it is both a script for theatre performance and a close reading of an

autobiographical case history. The text stages the interlocking of fiction, theory

and parodic exaggeration and confrontation. The writing aims to foreground the

collusion and collision of the two areas of creative writing and theoretical

awareness within the same field of verbal play, the space of writing. The

reader/viewer is to read the work as entertainment, comedy, information, and to

form a personal, emotive relationship with it, as a form of identification. The

reading of the text becomes diverse here, unspecified, variable. The placement

of disparate forms of writing within one text enacts a destabilization of both the

area of theory and the area of creative writing practice. The two areas reflect on

one another, augment and inform each other, act both in unison and discord, in

ambience and dissonance, extending and expanding the construct of critical

writing. The text enacts a jamming and collapse of the subject in language and

then a re-emergence.

Ania Walwicz

30 September 2016

 

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acknowledgements

i. publication of extracts

Versions of parts of this thesis have appeared in the following journals:

Walwicz, Ania (2013) ‘Cut tongue and the mechanism of defence’, in Southerly 73: 1 The Political Imagination, pp. 89-95.

Walwicz, Ania (October 2015) ‘Eat’ in TEXT 19: Special Issue 33 Website Series Art as Parodic Practice

http://www.textjournal.com.au/speciss/issue33/Walwicz.pdf

Walwicz, Ania (November 2015) “horse preamble” in Cordite 55: Future Machines,

https://cordite.org.au/poetry/notheme5/horse-preamble/

Walwicz, Ania (May 2016) “horse”, ibid.

https://cordite.org.au/essays/horse/

Walwicz, Ania (September, 2016) Bonnie Cassidy & Jessica Wilkinson, Contemporary Australian Feminist Poetry: The Hunter Anthology, Melbourne.

ii. Major Performances of extracts from thesis

Walwicz, Ania “extracts from horse” AAWP Conference: Riding the Ghost Train hosted by Swinburne University, Richmond Town Hall, November 30, 2016.

Walwicz, Ania “extracts from horse” Arthouse Theatre North Melbourne, July 2015.

iii. Books by Ania Walwicz

Walwicz, Ania Writing, Melbourne: Rigmarole Books, 1982. Walwicz, Ania Boat, Sydney: Angus & Robertson, 1989 (Winner of the 1990 ANZ New Writing Award in the Victorian Premier’s Award). Walwicz, Ania red roses, St Lucia, Qld.: University of Queensland Press, 1992. Walwicz, Ania elegant Sydney, Aus: Vagabond Press, 2013 Walwicz, Ania palace of culture, Glebe, N.S.W.: Puncher & Wattmann, 2014. iv. Ania Walwicz’s work is represented in well over two hundred anthologies.

 

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iv. The Film: footage of Ania Walwicz’s performance of horse can be viewed at:

https://www.dropbox.com/s/hi1xui6xnvgamw9/Ania%20Walwicz%20Horse.mp4?dl=0

Photography: Naomi Herzog, Melbourne 2015

Sound design: Peter Knight, Melbourne 2015

Film compilation: Tania Jovanovic, Melbourne 2015

 

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Photo:  Naomi  Herzog  

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Horse

Preamble

Dear reader. I will tell you a story. This is a story of my life now. Dear reader turn

away from these pages ...They will only bring grief to me ... It will only wound me and

hurt me. But I must do it now. lch muß ... Inner necessity. I have to do it now. I must.

I have to. I have to do it now and do do do a doo doo ... lt is imperative. I have to.

This is something I have to do to save me. Dear reader, I'm in bits and pieces. I am a

broken house. I am a puzzle. I have to place this together. This will glue me and

repair me. This will build me. Bildingsroman. A constructive novel. A book. This is the

theatre of my head in a theatre. I act this out. I enact me. I act out. I act up. I work

this out. I am actor enactor of the inner theatre of Anna 0. This is the theatre of my

head. I am my performance now. I become somebody else. I want to become

somebody else who is me. I am a she looking for me. Somebody help me. Help me. I

help me. I talk to me when nobody else ... I talk when I can't talk. I speak here.

Where there is no speech or speaker. This is a page and a tape. This will be done

and done with. This is the theatre in a theatre. I act my body now. I feel my finger tips

when I cannot feel my finger. This will stop a dam from burst asunder. This will keep

a dyke from flood. I'm little Dutch boy. I keep the world together. By doing this, just

by doing this, just by this, exactly. I intend to travel back and travel forward. I aim

high. I plan to fly and fly. I am making this up and this makes me into somebody. I

become my story. I put on costumes in my, the theatre of my head. A performative

text and a performance now. I am speaking in your head. I put on a fur cap and red

boots now. I act up. This is a play in a play. l enter a narrative, a fragmented

narrative. I cut me up. Rumplestitskin. I tear myself in half when somebody knows

my name, but nobody knows me now and I don't know me. But I will know me. I aim

to. I want to. I plan to. I will start with a little child. I will start with Swidnica, a little

town. I will go back to that and I will travel. This will take me where it will take me. I

am ready. l enter a little theatre now with red curtains. I wear a red dress now. I have

 4  

a horse. I wear a crown I wear. Who am I now. I will talk this out, work it now. I am

making, I intend to make a person in a person. A subject in process, in progress ... I

am on my way. This is making me different. This does me an Ania. This is my record

and recording. I hear me now. Oral, aural text. I will act this out now. I ride a horse,

horsey, hobby horse, dada. It rolls now. Unroll red carpets now. Lights and action

starts. I feel lively, lovely, beloved, heavenly. God help me now. Light me, bright me.

Speak through me. l am spoken now. Words tell me and say me and make me into

me. l please me. Other writers speak through me now. I am a fictocritical construct, a

machine for writing. I am made of this, only this. I make this. This grows me and

grows and grows and makes itself in me. I am the beanstalk and jack and jack in a

box now. I open my lid and laugh now. l will see where this will take me. It will take

me where it will take me. It will make me famous and different to me. It will transform

me. I will make a story and a theatre. I will travel far and further. I feel better and

better. I can cry now. Hinda Rosen, my student in the poetry class brings a book for

me, Konik Garbusek, a fairytale. Konyok Garbunok, written by Piotr Jerszow, a

Russian scholteacher. This is my first year prize from my primary school in Swidnica

Slaska, school number 7. I remember the school number embossed in white on a

navy blue shield, sewn onto my coat. And the blue beret that I now wear. With a

bow.

What does this mean to me what does horse mean to me it hurts me it hurts

me i remember me – school now and blue navy blue uniform now – overall with

buttons on fartuszek with white collar on you have to iron this i have to find this out i

have to know what i mean now I have to work this out rebus puzzle story of my life

now what is it it's all in my book now all here my diary dream diary my analysis now

with franca simone shanti belinda jacqueline now i learn how to cry I have to try and

try to know me and i don't know me no i don't know me

I meet Hinda at the age of 11 at Elwood Central School by the seaside in

Melbourne in 1963. I tell her I want to be a writer. Autor. Writer here. Exactly where I

am. The Polish ambassador contacts me in 2011, Andrzej Jaroszewski. He wants to

meet me and he meets me in 2012. He edits books of poetry- about war. l am

introduced to him by lzabela Rajtaczak who becomes my friend and sends me the

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current print of the Konik Garbusek book, Oficyna Wydawnicza, Poznan, smaller now

and translated into prose but with the very same illustrations by Jan Szancer. I

receive the book in 2013. The original imprint of my book is 1957, in the lost world

now.

The book becomes my symbolic field of reading the self, of reading myself, of

projection, introjection, play of symbolic meanings and the sense of the puzzle

appears. Something needs to be deciphered or made clear. I have a stone in my

shoe I need to take out now. This has to be done. I have to do this. I want to do

this now. This is the doing. I am doing this is doing me and writing me now. Writing

as a memory and imprint of the self. This is my diary. This my dream diary. I

analyse me.

Konik Garbusek1 translates into Humpback Pony, the pony is the helper, the

assistant, the magical force in the story. I am the humpback pony. At the age of six

my back is bent, one shoulder higher than the other. The self is split and exists

within the fissure of the underdog Ivan, the protagonist, the Konik who helps him

and the elements of the story, a journey. I write a fairytale at the age of six, called

“Sopel Zlosci”- “Icicle of Anger” about a king who is ill and a magician travels and

performs magical acts so that the king can recover. I never finish the story. I

abandon it and I take it up here. I abandon me and take it up here. The anger is

frozen but I unfreeze me. I come alive now. I feel good. I feel my life now.

pony humback pony hunchback me I am humback pony help me god help me

help me somebody help me oh help me help help me help me Rhonda help me

guardian angel with wings help me over a dark water now ober over over little

bridge guardian angel with wings aniele bozy strozu moj angel help me now over

water river I can't swim now in deep dark forest now in deep dark night in deep dark

now I am pony girl now i enter my picture get into me now associate and

disassociate now i attach me here i sew me in i sew me in by magic now I was torn

in pieces and sew me together to put it how to put

Fictocriticism; a practice that sews me that I sew here. Bricolage, montage,

assemblage, collage, coller, to stick together. I make a story out of bits and pieces.

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The process of associative thought and reflection. Improvisation and analysis. The

flight of thought, a trajectory and reflection, retrieval, recoil. The use of multilevel

text comprising poetics, theory and appropriated text. The entry into my fairytale

here.

Define fictocriticism, define a horse. Fictocriticism tells a story through a

story, tells a story indirectly, alludes to a story, tells my story differently,

represents me, presents me with a symbol, a remnant, a rebus, a puzzle, a

shadow a dream that has to be decoded. Amanda Nettlebeck writes in The Space

Between: Australian Women Writing Fictocriticism: “the voice and the book

dissolve into a plethora of half complete texts, voices, incommensurable

positions. Between the two moments – a world of difference.”2

I dream that Margaret Trail, my reader is my mother and that Leonardo di

Caprio who plays Arthur Rimbaud in Total Eclipse3 is both my brother and my father.

He is drunk and writes “The Drunken Boat” here. We live in the flat in St. Kilda. l

write my dreams down now. Margaret Trail becomes the “good enough mother” of

Winnecott who “meets the omnipotence of the infant (me) and makes sense of it.”4 l

analyse my dream now. l analyse me. I am the director of my theatre. I am Arthur

Rimbaud who is drunk now.

I go back now I go back now oh I go back now .... i cry and cry and cry and cry

now or i pretend to cry here boohoo boohoo I tell jess that I worry and worry but now

I don't worry but I worry I scare me

Sigmund Freud writes an essay on the uncanny, unheimlich, the unhomely,

the weird, that which makes my hair stand up. The pony book reminds me and

reminds me ... One thing echoes and duplicates another and doubles and trebles

and multiplies me. This scares me. Freud becomes terrified by his reflection in the

mirror of the train, a sleeper, wagon lit, when the mirrored door swings open, all of a

sudden he sees a stranger, a gentleman in a dressing gown and a sleeping hat of a

sleeper who invades his cabin. The self and its reflection. The self and its double.

That other in the mirror. I am scared of the book that is brought to me in the poetry

class now. I read it and re-read it.

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Freud writes ... “the uncanny is that class of terrifying which leads back to

something long known to us, once very familiar ...” 5 “We are reminded that the

word Heimlich is not unambiguous but belongs to two sets of ideas, which without

being contradictory are yet very different: on one hand, it means that which is

familiar and congenial, and on the other, that which is concealed and kept out of

sight.”6

return to child me return a come back to me where at six it comes back a me

a feel how i this feel to m,e what ido did what happen to me what did what where

where where am I now back a me where

aniusia tak ja jestem biedna i chora, nie, jestem bogata i zdrowa jestem

zywa jeszcze zywa tutaj tu ja wiem jak czytac teraz wiem jak pisac wiem jak

teraz wiem jak

Anna Gibbs writes “ ... a selection of psychoanalytic writings to explore

what theoretical writing on intertextuality so often occludes: that is the passionate

dimension of intertextual practices ... literary borrowings, influences,

apprenticeships, and hauntings – by other writers, by the music of words, by

memories ... ‘fiction théorique’ ... called ‘fictocriticism’ ... hybrid forms of writing

which mix genres, eschew omniscient modes of narration and ‘grand narratives’

in favour of first-person or multiple partial perspectives ... singular stories and

fragmented forms.’7

Ania Walwicz writes, “I always have to quote somebody. This is a form of

gossip now. So-and-so said. That’s the way to write about. The discourse, the

formation of a discourse. That is what I am learning now. What somebody said and

the interaction with that. That somebody says me now. Or I say that, I say that. I

say what I think now. What I think about.”8

When one reads one's writing one becomes another person and another

person. I am Luce lrigaray, Monique Wittig, Helene Cixous, Piotr Jerszow and me

when I was six years old. Reading and re-reading the self or what one thinks and

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feels the self is or was. Janet Frame writes, “I don't know if it had happened to me or

is happening or will happen to me in the future.”9

Freud writes about screen memory. We recollect an outline, a shadowy

construct, a fragment and then fill that in, colour it in. The pony book is the

instigator, the trigger, the commencement and then beginner. I free-associate now.

Teresa D'Avila writes about the smell of flowers, the olfactory event when I smell

the smell of roses, dusty pink smell of roses while I read my words. I begin a

voyage, an adventure here. I improvise and construct this as I go along. I don't

know where this will take me. Yet I feel my way and know that the story, the true

story of my life, the real autobiography ...

i am little horse pony konik garbusek little hump back pony now am mister ed

dead dad mister deedee said i get in me iget out of me and I get in me I enter little

door now in palace of ants i am king here I am king of my heart

Marguerite Duras says that the story of life does not exist. I am made from bits

and pieces. Glimpses. The Kaballah states that awareness, awareness of the divine,

the Shekhinah, appears in glimpses, little glimpses, shards. Zohar, the book of

splendour, writes that all will be reversed, all that stands up will lie down, all that

upside will stand on its head, all will be transformed, transferred, altered. Words will

alter me, words will, by writing this by saying this god help me assist me

gold help me now angels of angels hold me up arms gold help me assist me

The horse book tells me a story. Three brothers live with their father and grow

wheat. The eldest are strong and cunning but the youngest Ivan, Vanya (Ania) is

stupid now. He sleeps above a stove, on top of the stove in winter. Somebody

steals wheat now. They set up a watch. Big brothers fall asleep. But Ivan, Vanya

(Ania) stays up and sees a white mare, a big horse now, golden mane, who frolics

and gallops. He leaps and won't let her go now. No, never ever. She speaks to him

and makes a bargain. She will give him two beautiful, fine horses, and a magic

pony, in return for her freedom. He can sell the horses but the little hump back pony

must stay with him, always. He agrees to this. He lets her go. The horses arrive

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next morning, with the pony. Evil brothers steal the horses and sell them. Evil sister

steals my horses away. I am Ivan now (the focus of identification). I am the hurt

party, the underdog. They steal me and steal from me. But I keep the pony, the

magic pony – konik garbusek, with two humps on me. Ivan finds this out. I find this

out now. I find me out. Brothers sell horses, lovely black horses with silver manes

and plaits and shiny hoofs from pearls. The Russian tsar buys them for his stable.

The best horses. He hires me to look after him. I am the stableboy, groom, at the

centre of the story. I act it out on me, in me.

Psychodrama, the theatre proposed as a psychological catharsis, a release of

conflict, an externalization of repressed areas in the psyche, the theatre where all

elements of the narrative become movable and all the parts of the story that

represent me. This will change me. Moreno writes: “The client works entirely through

fantasy roles and their counter-roles, becoming aware of the ambivalent nature of

the role and the counter-role, being present at the same time ... the notion of

paradox, ambivalence and change .... Psychodrama becomes part of the

psychoanalytical model, a little theatre where inner conflict is enacted in a public

theatre space, assisted by a director, resulting in an emergence of hitherto unknown

modes of thought and feeling, an awakening and discovery .... the spontaneous

actors in the drama produce the personae by liberating themselves from them at the

same time.”10 The writings of Moreno influence R.D. Laing in the concept of the

theatre, of family therapy and inform the Playback theatre in Melbourne, with its

notions of improvisation, spontaneity and the public theatre enactment of real-life

narratives.

Celia Hunt writes about the therapeutic effects of writing fictional

autobiography ... “the benefits I myself experienced from using fictional and poetic

techniques to encapsulate my thinking and feeling processes in psychotherapy ...11

“an increased awareness of spontaneous feelings and emotions, a more reflexive

relationship between different aspects of the self ...” 12 cognitive fluidity ...a central

feature of thinking and creative process ...”13

I remember how I first read this story, and how I felt sorry for Ivan, the silly,

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the stupid, the one that was mistreated and who won. It was ever hopeful, ever so.

And then as an adult, the re-reading of the story where it suddenly seemed that all

aspects were metaphors of disaster and malfunction, delusion, defensive

behaviour and then again returning to the original reading, of the process of

transformative magic. Reading as a form of projection, re-reading and altered

readings of the self.

The self in process. The self in progress.

Ivan, Vanya, Ania finds a magic feather, bright and shining feather of firebird

now. The pony warns me. Don't pick it up now but I do here. I am the writer of me. I

can't help me and I help me. l am unlucky. So far, unlucky ... But the tsar hires me as

his stable hand and groom. I look after his horses now and they are always shiny,

glossy, ready. I sleep and sleep now but magic pony help me he helps me. Oh, help

me somebody.

The ostler is jealous of me. They're all jealous of me. He reports me to the tsar

that I am a witch and use magic on me. I know that I do. The tsar wants fiery feather

from me. They want to own me and own me and use what I do and use me. Pony

helps me will help me. He told me. I hold me together. I just hold me. Hold on now.

Hold. Hold me. I am the slave of the tsar now. I am the slave teacher. I am beholden

now. I have to free me. I am waiting for responses now. I am the applicant now. I am

the waiter. I await now. I wait now. I am the servant of culture in the palace of culture

in Warsaw. Palac kultury i sztuki.

Childhood memory re-surfaces now. The backyard and the book there and me

reading it. The large book, a huge book that holds me. I open it up now. I get in me.

And the photo of my sister holding that book wide open. She stole me. The sense of

dust and packed soil and the linden tree smelling sweet, so sweetly. I return and

take the book back now. This is mine now. I can read now and read me. I know how.

I didn't know how but I know now.

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Paul Magee writes that “Literary experimentation, when hypothesised to

rupture textual expectations at the right moments, has the paradoxical effect of

bringing more of the author's voices into play ... one floods the work with the

creatures of the unconscious.”14

I am writing my dreams down in my dream diary. This is the dream now. I

dream me and I untangle me from stasis of sleep. I don't sleep now. I wake me,

awake me.

Rose places needles in my back. The bent back, the spine is bent. The hump

back pony me is here. The signals sent by the central nervous system become

truncated, deviant, broken, misdirected. The back is bent very early. At 4, in my

photo, the right shoulder is higher. At 6 the effects are felt. A sense of elation

appears – introversion and elation and deflection in the thinking pattern. Numbers

get mixed up. The fragmentation of thought and feeling begins here and is enacted

just here, on the page. The fragmentation of the body of the author is written down.

Anna Gibbs writes about fictocriticism, and I do it. I enact it. I present it and embody

it. This is my theatre and I act it out.

Anna Gibbs invites me to Murdoch University and she lets me write like this,

yes. She says yes. You encourage me… I like me ... I am told at Deakin that it not up

to me to comment on my work. The publisher says to me that they want to be the only

one to represent the author. The art gallery tells me. Who owns this and who owns

me? The court action of authors against Google is lost in 2011.Thus this belongs to

everybody and is said by everybody who reads me. The poet Rumi asks who is

speaking through my mouth. Who says me. I am made of a collection of thoughts, of

all I have read and said and what somebody said and said to me. I am all quotes and

unquotes. Rumi, the Afghani Moslem poet evokes a voice that enters from within and

without, transcending the ego position. The voice of God. “Who says words with my

mouth. All day I think about it, then at night I say it. Where did I come from and what

am I supposed to be doing? I have no idea.”15

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The fairytale deals with the collective unconscious of archetypal imagery. This

me and everybody. And nobody at all. I invent me. “The archetype is ... unconscious

content that is altered by becoming conscious ... by being perceived ...” The

“experience of double or split personality actually forms the core of the earliest

psychopathological investigations”,16 my childhood begins with the de-centred

narrative of sympathetic magic. My childhood begins with a sense of abandonment

and religious feelings of transformative magic. I possess powers of language and

image as accompensation. There is an outside power that assists me. This is all

meant to happen. God loves me and helps me. God help me.

Carl Jung writes about free association as “ ... symptomatic acts directed by

a psychic factor that can behave like an independent being.”17

I am spoken here and written down. This my method here. The surrealists take

this further to invent the found object; the random act of synchronicity. I am

performing chance events here that turn out just right.

I construct an opera. A polyphonic structure. This can be read as one voice,

my voice or many voices now and performed by many voices, simultaneously like

a Kurt Schwitters operatric chorus. I am the dada dada mama.Drama. Schwitters

writes, “In the work of art ... the great secret of Merz lies in its evaluation of

unknown quantities ...”18 Hans Arp writes “l am a horse ...”19 Schwitters writes

“Anna Blume, 0 Beloved of my twenty-seven senses, I love your! –You ye You

your, I your, You my. – We? This belongs (by the way) elsewhere ...”20 Constant

fragmentation, digression, mischievous play and multiple, unexpected, irrational

doubling, expansion, explosion of language and meaning. This what I want to do.

This what I do. That’s the way!

I am using Sigmund Freud’s dream diary to interpret me and I get into a dream

state now. I hypnotize me. Freud writes me. “ ... in the same way as an hypnotized

subject whom Bernheim had ordered to open an umbrella ... the man carried out this

instruction when he was awake but could produce no motive for his action. It is a

state of affairs of this sort that we have before our eyes when we speak of the

existence of unconscious mental processes."21

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Writing this helps me. I hope it helps me. I come awake now. I really wake

me. I was asleep and sleepy but now I wake me. Something happens to me. I

focus now. Little horse helps me. Humpback pony helps me. Ivan, Vanya, Ania is

helped by higher power. Helped by magic now. The process of writing. Konik

garbusek helps Vanya Ania to catch the firebird now. Magic pony helps me now to

serve the tsar, the evil ruler. I am an enslaved slave but I have my pony now. This

connects me. I'm in pieces. Bits and pieces, bits and pieces, since you left me I'm

in bits and pieces.

Once a week or on a daily basis I go to see Dr Sigmund Freud and talk to him

now. Martin Payne says that “ ... all therapies are narrative therapies ... in terms of

telling and re-telling stories.”22 1 tell the story of the magic pony and re-tell me and

live it out in me and do me and re-do me. I hope that this will have a happy end

now. That I will end up happy and merry. I hope that this will change me.

"The tenet of ‘as if’ is central to drama therapy – allowing belief and

disbelief to be present simultaneously.”23 The text with multiple perspectives

now. Paradox, conundrum, rebus, enigma. Looking at my story from many points

of view now. This is Playback theatre, my inner cinema. I go to the cinema once

a week, every Monday. All the films seem to comment on my life, they coincide

with me.

tsar tell me to tell me tsar tells to get me they get me to tell me I get me to tell

me what tells me to tell me I tell me to tell me you be true now say me say me what

I say now say me I cry and I cry now I want to cry me but I can't cry me snow

queen put ice in me in my heart snow queen does in white fur ice me put stye in

my eye put ice in me but rose warms me she warms me moxa mix max now mick

mickey mouse me I will do now pong ping pony comes over why you cry now I

want to but can't yet my eye breaks now they glue me but i come apart to me they

glue me and stick me tsar says audit tsar says do it tsar says he will kill me I am

scared of kill me who will kill me but pony helps me please help me mister pony

opo pony konik garbusek says don't worry I will help me now I will help me one

thing after one thing after one thing after another one thing now one thing at a time

o but I have many all at once now all at once now all over and every which now

 14  

konik help me oh help me somebody

Allowing errors to stay, allowing language to break me, allowing the text to

emerge now. The act of improvisation. Patti Smith says that “The concept of

improvisation has long repelled and excited me for it contains the possibilities of

humiliation and illumination.”24

Konik Garbusek as the mechanism of defence, endless wish-fulfilment, lack of

reality principle, the abyss of childhood, the unavowed pre-verbal trauma, and the

magical transformation that the book offers, both at once, both at the same time.

Which is it? What am I doing now? The conflictual enactment or maybe the same

aspect of one leading to another. I had to enter this story now. I had no choice of

any other. I had no other story. That was the story I liked best. The story with the

helper who helps me. Help me Rhonda, Rose and Jacqueline. At 6 the psychic

apparatus was already formed. I was made and prepared. I was cooked and served.

I was eaten. Anna Gibbs writes, “The figures of the ghost and the cannibal both deal

with the inevitable encounter with the alien at the heart of the proper and familiar,

those symptoms of the way in which as Gertrude Stein ... put it, ‘being yourself is

funny as you are never yourself to yourself’. Both reiterate ... the figure of the double

... a kind of recursive looping ...”25 Who ate me, what eats me here. I ate me. The

issues with eating. The mouth speaking here. Other people eat my words.

The Kabbalah, the work of Judaic mysticism, states that once the sacred

language is inscribed in the Torah, folded in the scrolls, it formats its own new

meanings. Words multiply and devise new combinations, they mean more than

before and are forefronted as elements of magic. Zohar, the Book of Splendour, the

Book of Radiance, states that God’s radiance appears in glimpses of awareness,

the Shekhinah. Rav P.S. Berg writes “transformation…the true purpose”.26 The

sacred realm can only be made manifest in language which magnifies in its

intensity. The magical mode of the word is incorporated in the invention of

psychoanalysis. I will speak here and this will change me. I know that it will.

Roman Polanski states in the documentary,27 that he wonders about freewill.

 15  

It is all written. It is all meant to be. It is all foreseen. I see him make his first

student film on the beach at Sopot. Two Men and a Wardrobe, 1954. Two men

carry a wardrobe into the sea and then carry it out again. Everyone is very

respectful. There is a film being made here. I am naked on the beach with a hat

on. I am lost tiny girl in the bush. A fat man finds me. This was meant to be. All is

foretold. It is written that. This is my destiny. You are my destiny ...

Associative thought, collage, montage, bricolage, juxtaposition, decoupage,

adhesion, coller, to stick together. I attach now. l am pulled on crunchy snow, on a

sled. “Brother Nicholas of Flue had a vision, at the sight of it he feared that his

heart would burst into little pieces.”28 Carl Jung says that the “symbols of the self

arise in the depths of the body and they express its materiality every bit as much as

the structure of perceiving consciousness. The symbol is thus a living body.”29 I am

the humpback pony. “Spirit is always an active, swift moving being as well that

which invites, stimulates, incites and inspires ... the dynamic principle ... the

negative hero manages to achieve through his stupidity what others fail to

accomplish through their best efforts.” 30 I am Ivan now, Vanya, Ania.

“He accepted the challenge from chance as a decision of fate and

carefully pasted the scraps in the pattern which chance had determined.”31

I am ivanvanya ania stable boy now I work for star tsar nasty tsar my father in

stable now vet stable horse I am hump back girl pony who is me and does tricks to

me to trick me by magic always by magicto me I am trickster pony trick pony who

makes all my dreams come true to me I am little horse now I take up firebird pen

and quill and bad luck to me I am whole story all parts of me I am six I read now I

am 4 before I read I smell horse of horse now I'm in Poland now in a field of mud

muddy field onboots now and then I eat sweets that cakes that my daddy buys me

cakes and cakes and lollies red and green lollies in Russia talk about Russia

“In the case of our research, we did indeed observe that the mind, once

freed of all critical pressures and school-bound habits offered images and not

logical propositions; and that if we adopted what the psychiatrist Pierre Janet

called a practice of automatic writing, we indeed produced texts which we found

 16  

ourselves describing a ‘universe’ as yet unexplored.”32

The automatic writings of Ania Walwicz, Franz Kafka and the automatic

theatre of James Clayden. In his Substitute for the Mechanics' Institute, La Mama

2013, he re-constructs the garage, the smell of paint, the cutting of steel now,

father, the plumber – everything that happened – the reconstruction of repressed

memory, abreaction now, that which was withheld comes to surface, emerges, of

its own volition, ascends and overwhelms the one who states it – “producing

childhood memories” that are withheld and stored and emerge as physical and

psychic events – he knocks his knee now and strains a tendon while skipping. I

get ill from eating too many sweets, sugar and cakes and chocolate, and pinks,

musk lollies, cream rolls with cream and cherry jam that I eat with a spoon. I am

baby doll, a little boy-girl. The doll image of Hans Bellmer. That is what I am. My

evil father is the Russian tsar now in Russia. The hero of the Russian army.

I have to do this now. I have to do and do and do do do do do and do do do do

and do and do do do do

“ ... this semiotic approach, putting the emphasis on rhythm, rhyme and

nonsense ... words ... captures the pre-verbal babble when fully articulated

speech breaks down ... I did live in a 14 storey building in Moscow, for 10 months

over 1990-91. Something cracked in my mind at the time ... in a sense I became ‘I

that is We, We that is l’ ... a dizzy and deranged model of mental

representation.”33

Writing down what happens to me, but obliquely, through metaphors of the

fairytale, through other people's words and deeds, I infer, I suggest, I twist and

turn. I eat other people's words. This is my sweet now. I like this. I taste this. Yum.

“Voicescapes also create their own geographies. As postmodern

geographers such as Steve Pile, David Harvey, Doreen Massey have suggested,

places do not have clearly defined boundaries or limits ... Interruption, more than

cohesion and continuity, allowed me to engage fully with what Patricia

Mellencamp calls the “rhizomatic structure of gossip”.34 A polyphonic opera

 17  

starts here. Kurt Schwitters’ Merzbaum and Merzsonata, Ursonata, Sonatine. I

play Tristan and Isolde now. The music falls and rises and falls and rises. I read

women's magazines. Short articles about cooking and eating. I eat other people

and their words, I absorb everything. I become everything I want. I do what I

want now. I am the magic horse. Drawing analogous lines and parallels, making

associative leaps and bounds and beginning to enter the area that I wish to

explore

This leads me now one thing leads to another and leads now lead me leader

one after 1234 now and 4321and 4213 and 1134 and 4444 and 4 I was 4 and 123

and more and more Baroness Elsa von Feytag- Longhoven ... “in the construction of

her costumes out of found objects ... effected a kind of living collage that erased the

boundaries of life and art.”35 ive in this,inside this. I do this. I play this out. I am the

baroness now, dressed in black, genaidige frau- showing my photo of my castle

where I live now, inside a book of fairytales

Ivan vanya ania in stable of tsar of Russia my evil father slave enslaved I am

stable boy now I sleep but the horses look so good now who looks after me now it

is me the magic horse hump back pony I go on with my story this will help me and

does help me and will help me and will carry me on my little pony thuis will fly me

over mountains and seas now and over tall big buildings and over and over thuis

will save me and keep me protect me god help me now angel with wings guards

me now angel with angelwings

Gareth Griffiths writes “Fictocriticism ... hybridized writing that moves between

the poles of fiction (invention/speculation) and criticism (deduction/explication) of

subjectivity (interiority) and objectivity) (exteriority). It is the writing that brings the

‘creative’ and the ‘critical’ together ... in the sense of mutating them ...”36 I am in this

book now. Here I am.

 18  

post script

I am the analyzand my language is hesitant I stammer hammer

Freud tells me

There are gaps and omissions that show my

repression oh oh

oh oh oh dear

what is said and

unsaid

My spine is bent. The central nervous system, aligned to the spinal column,

undergoes deflection, faults in transmission, produces uneven brain patterns, gaps,

misfirings, errors, neurological misreadings.I enact this by wearing striped socks and

jumpers and tops. I act it out here

By leaving lines and gaps in the text by incomplete words and broken words

and collapsing syntax and format. his is the layout of my body. This is my edit. This

my portrait- selfie.I am amistable.mio, mistabe, mistake.The spaces between words

and lines and words are uneven, askew. My body is in pieces, g fragments

Patricia Fedkiw says tells me that “To misspell is to dispel phallic authority and

to propel unbound energy into circulation.”37

I am the hump back pony. I have a hump. My back is twisted. One shoulder

higher than the other. Christine, Alana, Rose, James, Leigh and Lee place needles in

me in acupuncture. They ask me if it hurts, if my back hurts me. It hurts me. This

hurts me.

 19  

Martin Gliserman says that my “body reveals itself in the language of the text”

my “body is encoded in language”.38

My language presents a cut a gap “neither being, nor non-being … the cut, the

slashing, the slit ... The rhythmic structure of this pulsation of the slit

…”___________________________________39

I am Anna Freud and I write about my father. My real name is Anna Singer. I

defend myself. I don’t want to think about him.

Through “… regression, repression, reaction-formation, isolation, undoing,

projection, introjection, turning against the self and reversal … sublimation.”40

The tarot card reader says that I have a way of crossing myself. Everything I do

is out of love. I want to love and fall in love and have a fairytale life and love and a

happy end here. But I know that he lies to me and lies and makes things up. I don’t

trust me here. He tells me that I live within a gap and a split, spaltung. Will this help?

I dream that I’m on a train with Susan H. and I leave my “Horse” behind. I run

away but then I want to get it back and go back now .I am sorry.

“… writing… as… revelation…”41 I fragment me to escape me, that’s what I do.

That is what I aim to do.

“The splitting of consciousness… the result of an act of will on the part of the

patient”. 42 I eat daddy. The… “aim consists of the incorporation of an object…”43 I

have everyone and everything inside me .They all speak me.”…the hysterical

discourse goes…in all directions”.44

 20  

“… the subject is the subject of speech.”45 ”Language is the place where

meaning circulates… arbitrarily fixed”.46

The train collides here, the plane falls down, the tower falls over, the war breaks

out, everything collapses now .But I have the story, the fairytale that leads me. I have

a little hump back pony here who is me to lead me . I have one thing that will lead

me . Little horse leads me and pulls me along now. Little horse leads me and helps

me.

I go on with this now which holds me and guides me and leads me and guides

me and helps me and leads me and leads me and leads me I am on my way and on

my way here I am on my way and on my

“…kindle many lights until all be bright. Then take ink, pen and a table to thy

hand and remember that thou art about to serve God in joy of the gladness of the

heart .Now begin to combine a few or many letters to permeate and combine them

until thy heart be warm.”47

Disruption of content, syntax, context, typesetting, the page is speaking to you,

yes you.

I have a story inside a story about a story around a story inscribed within a story

relating to a story yes

Lacan writes that “A Word…is a subtle body…” 48The body of language is my

body, the disrupted body here”.49 Lalangue…reflects the laws of unconscious

processes…whose effects…escape the grasp of the subject.”50 “…jouissance of

which she herself may know nothing…”51 I don’t know what I do. I don’t know what

I’m going to do. I only know what I do after I do it. It all happens to me. This all comes

to me and comes to be and be be be. I am the mad subject who is spoken, rather

than speaking .I am this, my mouth speaking. I am my mouth mouth mouth

 21  

The signifier is destabilized here… “For the phallus is a signifier…”52 I disrupt it

here. The “master of the truth” is absent here. Where is he? He left or is dead or

retired. Or ran away. Scared. Or I got rid of him. I stopped attending his sessions. I

ran away from the school of Professor Idiot .I went to the cinema.

I am located within the gap and the split and absence which “constitutes analytic

discovery…”53 I am going to find me .I am on my way and on my way here and on my

way. I ride my horse now.

I am an absence on my way and on my way to become somebody else and new

and better and brighter and writer and better and better and better and brighter and

lighter and brighter and better and better

But I have a wish And a want and I want me and I want to have me and horse

will help me and little hump back pony comes to get me and help me and help me

and help me somebody and help help help

“…the object of desire is the cause of desire ,and this object that is the cause of

desire is the object of desire ,and this object that is the cause of the desire is the

object of the drive-…object around which desire turns.”54

I want to write and right and write and right and right and write and right to right

to right me write me

aniu przesylam ci moe zimowych pozdrowien z gdanska mam nadzieje ze

mam nadzieje ze bedziesz miala okazje odwiedzic Europe izabela rajtaczak-juszko

ania iam sending lots of wintery best wishes to you from gdansk I hope that you will

be able to visit europe konik garbusek book and izabela who sends new version a

new version anew what lies there what have I forgot forget forgot ergot argot mania

 22  

ania konik garbusek now tell me what tell me what do I do now what to do now what

do I do now what shall I do now konik little horse I have a toy me i have a toy I toy

have me to play with I have me I have little horse now who is me I am little horse

now who is me who is it tell me who is who to me I am all n all and no one or none

at all tell me I am actor director of little theatre here I am actor enactor of little horse

who make who makes all my dreams come true to me oh little horse help me now

god help O me assist me god help me little horse helps me in swidnica where I am

six years old now I go to school I am

teacher I sleep at school now I teach in dreams little horse comes over please

help me assist me help me

now make all my dreams make it all come true to me god helps me now he

speaks to me that n that n that don't you worry it will be alright now I am lee lee lee

little horse now oto bajka sie zaczyna fairytale starts now I begin my story now oto to

this is it now I am ivan vanya ania I am little horse who helps me now I am magic

horse now I act enact me what should I do now what will we do now where will we go

now tell me tell me tell me I am humbackpony now I am firebird on fire now I am all

and everybody glow now I take horses to fair a fair market a mark a fair tsar buys me

king buys me I belong to king of russia the russian tsar I am stable boy boy I am

stable table I am level head now who is that tell me I am wonder girl with red

stockings on I float a boat now I am me to me o somebody who will I be become

now who will do now who will be me now what should I be I am little me again at

school now yes I student am school at school I am schoolteacher and school now

what is where I sleep now I am sleep school in my sleep head I am undead dead I

unearth me I dig in now what was once where where was I then time slips me z

chlopa na cara from peasant pea little me to princess now from one to three to six

now six and two now six and three in school number seven now tsar wants this and

that from me I am owned by tsar tsar tsar of Russia what it means to me I become a

princess now I become what I want now I become me and everybody tell me what it

means to me I lift a kid now what is there who is there I don't know me I know me but

I don't know me I am magic horse and I tell me you be good ania I transform me I

become and become now I am little humpback pony and I write now I am magic

pony by act of I am magic pony now horse hobby little wheels on me I am all and

everybody I become now I become now this will change me I have to do this now to

 23  

change me I have to do it now to alter me I have to do it now I have to do it I have to

I must ich muss the categorical imperative this must be done now this is doing this

must do this is doing it must musi must muss must this is doing now this is doing me

it will do me this does me this does me now I don't do it it does me it does me this is

doing me this is doing to me this is doing it it is doing by itself this is doing me this is

doing doing and in and undoing in and doing in and doing and doing me this is doing

itself this is doing do this is doing do do do do do a doodoo do do do me it does this

will do this is already ready I am ready I begin this I begin my story here

I am this all ready ready I will use this this my script it speaks me this is my

theatre it acts me I am actor enactor I am actor director of my monologue here this

is my stage and theatre this is a voice inside my head now I am little horse now I

am a horse

 

 

24  

Horse

I dream that I am a child again. I am lead by someone bigger and stronger than I

am. I carry a big jug full of green fluid. I pour it out into goblets that others hold out to

me. I am very obedient. Everyone can see that I am a good girl, such a good girl. I

pour and pour now. The fluid looks like hemp seed oil, thick and viscous. I pour and

pour out. I pour and pour now. I am a child. She said I had always been such a good

girl, such a good girl. l had to be good. I have to be good now and approved of and

good. This is good now. l hope that it is. I know that it is.

Alice Miller writes about “grandiosity” in The Drama of Being a Child. “He must

excel brilliantly in everything he undertakes, which he is surely capable of doing

(otherwise he is just does not attempt it). He, too, admires himself for his qualities –

his beauty, cleverness, talents – and for his success and achievements.” 55 The

“child had been assigned a special role ... if he failed, he was punished”56 The

“feeling of always having to walk on stilts.”57 l wanted to be famous. I was Edith Piaf.

I was a wunderkind but now I am lvan. l wanted to be Ivan, stupid lvan. The

one that didn't have to do anything special. I don't have to do anything special. Just

live and live and good things will happen to me. All by magic, the effects of magic.

AII will happen by the force of magic. All will happen to me. Everything will happen

to me. By itself, just by itself. Just easy. Nice and easy. Just easy, easy now. Just

ease. l will just let everything take place now. By itself. It has to happen like that. I

just play and play. l play now.

I am Little Hans. I am scared of the horse now. My horse here. What will it

reveal. I am no longer writing this. This is writing me and composing me. I look at

the image of my childhood house on Google earth. It is still there but there is an

awful feeling of foreboding. My childhood memories, the screen memories (like a

screen) hide a deeper and darker memory now. A non-verbal memory that lies

below the eschewed memories that I had made up for me. l don't know me. l play

and play. Garry Landreth says, “toys are used as words by children and play is their

language.”58 I am a child now and I play.

 

 

25  

The fairytale begins now. Oto bajka sie zaczyna. Once upon a time there lives

an old man with three sons. Two older ones and the youngest is Ivan who is stupid.

They live and sow wheat they sow oats they sow rye. In a field of wheat and oats

and rye. They live and sow and grow and then harvest and sell and sell and go

home with gold in a bag. Gold coins in a little draw-bag they had had. Gold in a bag.

Now.

They live together and then terrible then one day terrible something dreadful

happens now some terrible and awful to me some awful something awful happens to

me now some on me some thing hurts me and hurts me and attacks me and hurts

me someone does this to me all oats rye wheat tramples on me in a field of wheat

catcher in the rye some thing happens to me now I'm in a dark field now where they

trample me who does this to me now

I have to find out now what they stand on guard pitchfork in my fork my mouth

open mouth now in fear I have to eat now I was told to eat now swallow me and bird

and bird what happens now night and I watch in my red pyjamas for santa claus saint

nicholas to come but I can't see I fall asleep now one brother watch out and another

on a watch now watchmen watch me but can't see me dark in dark city night in

nighttime night now no one near me I sleep now when I think I don't sleep but I sleep

and I dream that I am a child again now I am a child danila gavrilo brothers danila

gavrilo watch out but fall asleep now the whole Russian army sleeps and sleeps

when they are supposed to look out but nobody is on a watch now my watch stops

Two nights they watch but see no one and see nothing and I don't see what

happens it all happens behind my back anyway so how can I see daddy says here

comes breakfast open the door wide here come doors wide open now here comes

truck open one eye lifts by a lift dzwig now open other eye now and wake up here

come truck open wide now here comes spoon to my mouth here comes something

in inside me I am open garage here come truck here comes lift me up here come

truck here come crane to lift me up I'm little teapot here come lips to lips now kiss

kiss and kiss kiss and kiss kiss xxxxxxxxxxoooooooo kiss n hugs n hugs in towel big

towel with stripy stripe now big bath in bath I am fish little fish now little goldfish now

 

 

26  

I don't remember anything

Melanie Klein uses play therapy and Anna Freud uses it too. I make a new

friend now whose mother, an analyst in Vienna, was babysat by Anna Freud. Her

great uncle studied with Freud. Sigmund Freud comes to see me now. l play with

my teddy. I have ten bears, they travel with me in the back of my father's green car,

Prussian green car, a car called "Warszawa". I see a Russian film about a little girl

whose father is a gamekeeper. He finds tiny bears and she looks after them. I make

up a story for myself. My father, the vet, brings back tiny bears for me to raise. I

feed them with a bottle. I live with my father and cook him dinner. He works with

horses in a horse stud in Galicia. He is old now. He is dead.

The third night the old man said to the youngest son, Ivan, Vanya, Ania. You

must go and look out now. I must look out now. Watch it now. Watch and wait and

see now. Doctor Brendan Morrisey writes about me that “the patient is alert and

orientated”. I know what is going on now. The father tells Vanya, Ivan, Ania to go

and lookout now. I sleep on top of the stove in winter. I sleep curled in a ball. My

father tells me to look out and watch out and watch now. Watch it. And I do now

(though I found it so hard to read a watch face now). Daddy says to me you just go

and see now. I will buy you sweets for my sweetie. So I see. Now I see what

happened to me. What happens to me. At Last I see.

At midnight exactly I see a big white beautiful horse appear. That is the one

and that is the one. The beautiful horse, a lovely dancing, prancing horse of the

French Horsemen Association display at the garden of Tuilleries in Paris, the

dancing white horse of Vienna. The beautiful horse now, dressage, corsage,

assemblage, montage and avantage, plaited mane in tiny plaits, coat nice and

shiny, pomade, orangeade and grenadine now. All delights of tongue and mouthy

mouth now. The beautiful horse from Jean Cocteau's La Belle et la Bête, “Va, va,

va now Magnifique”.

I, Ania, Vanya leap on the horse now. I grab it by the tail. I hold on now. I

ride bareback, without a saddle, I leap on and hold on tight. I ride backwards

now. Horse tries to throw me over but I hold on now. I've got it. I ride Sally.

 

 

27  

Horses how now. Jumpshow. Toss show. Ride it. Horse toss show. I hold on

now. I grab this and ride now and can't throw me can't get rid of me now can't

throw me. I'm strong now. Vanka Vstanka. Stand up toy. Can't throw me. I

bounce back every time now. Hold on now. I am Vanya, Ivan, Ania. I'm only little

child. I am brave horse who is caught now. I catch me out. I am old crazy father

who tells me to watch out. I don't know why I do what I do now but I know that it

is done to me now.

At this point I encounter resistance. I don't want to talk about it. Margaret says

this is only scratching. I start something but I don't end it. I get scared of me. The

analysis stalls. The patient encounters resistance and fear. But I overcome this. I go

on. I feel exposed now. I regress back to early days. I go back now.

Barbara Szmigielska writes Children’s Dreams. The first edition of this book was

published in Polish by the Foundation for Polish Science. The children tell their

dreams and are interviewed.

An Interview with a boy aged 4.9 months

Interviewer: “Tell me how a person looks when he is sleeping.”

Child: “His eyes are shut and he is lying straight on his side.”

I: “Does he have to be lying down when asleep?”

C: “Yes, because if he wasn't, he would topple over ...”

I: ‘Is it possible to sleep during the day or just at night?”

C: “At night.”

I: “Why?”

C: “Because mummy would yell that the good night story is finished.”

I: “Can people think when they are asleep?”

C: “No, they can't.”

I: “Why?”

C: “Well, because they're asleep.”59

I: “And can they speak?”

C: “They can only scream.”

I: “Why?”

 

 

28  

C: “Because they're dreaming about something terrible.

I: “And have you ever been afraid?”

C: “No, because mommy looks after me.”

I: “Do you think that people should be

afraid of the dark?”

C: “No, because mommy looks after

me.”

Because mommy looks after me. Because, because mummy looks after me,

because mommy looks after me. But I don't have a mommy looks after me. My

mommy is in bed. She sleeps and sleeps or lies there.

Nobody looks after me. I am Zosia Samosia. Suzie all alone. Lonely. No

mummy to look after me. Boohoo. No mommy in fairytales. There is no mummy. No

mommy at all. Mamusia. No. That is why I am scared now. Always scaredy. Always

fear. No mommy to look after me. No.

I: “What happens to the dream when it is over?”60

C: “I don't know because I can't see it any more. So, What happened to it? I

don't know. It disappeared somewhere. Where? I don't know.”

I: “Do you think that people should be scared of the dark?”

C: “No, because mommy looks after me, because mommy looks after me,

because mommy looks after me ...”

I: “Where do your dreams come from?”61

C: “I don't know.”

I: “Does anyone make you dream?”

C: ”God gives good children good dreams and bad children bad dreams.”

I: “And what kind of dreams does he give you?”

C: “Bad dreams at home, because I'm a naughty boy. I love mommy. I'm going

to the ball with mommy.”62

Barbara Szmygielska quotes the dreams and publishes the drawings of

dreams. There is a drawing of a shop called sklep. l find the book, browsing in the

 

 

29  

State Library of Victoria, my favourite library, with the layout copied from the British

Museum and a feeling of solemn knowledge and polished wooden floors.

“I dream that I was at a wedding with my brother Rysio but he was my

husband. I had a white frock and he had a black shirt.”63

“Raindrops of blood ... l went to a maze with my parents ... and drops of blood

were falling there ...The blood was dripping from the trousers of somebody who was

no longer alive ... drops of blood were falling on my hair. They just dropped from the

heart, onto the trousers and then onto us.”64

“Terrible dad with an eel. We went fishing on a yacht (but we don't really have

a yacht). Dad kept giving me this fish for bait and shoved my finger.”65

“I was on holidays and there was this merry-go-round (karuzela) and it hit me.

And I keep on dreaming of it. This merry-go-round knocked me on the head and

everybody is running to see it.”66

“I was in a rocker and mommy disappeared. I went looking for her in the street

...”67

Szmigielska writes that traumatized children reported more dreams ... with

content directly associated with the experience and unrelated scenes.

I am haunted by the book and I fail to write the title down and then I find it

again just by searching for its position in the library. It waits for me there. lt awaits

me. I open it at the same page as before, with the children’s drawing of the shop

Sklep. The image awakens a memory, a half-felt, twilight memory that does not

reveal itself to me. l am drawn back to the primal state of learning how to read

Sklep, the shop. Ala ma kota. Ala has a cat from the first grade reader. I try to

decipher the symbols in my story. What does this mean to me. The symbol as a

sign in text. The reading of the symbol; the multivocal reading of a symbol. I shop

in a shop. l am tiny. Freud writes about screen memory. We only recollect outlines

 

 

30  

of events. Then we confabulate. We fill them in. The recollection of memory is

fictive. I invent my life. I make it up here, bit by bit. And then it all comes true.

What did I do with the writing of the horse, getting on the horse, the horse

story, the ride, backwards. A sense of foreboding now. I am scared now. This

scares me. I am scaredy, skitty skittish kitty. I don't want to think about it now. What

happens to me? W#@hat is happening to me now? What happens to me here? l

can't think about it in words but I recognize it by feeling. A physicalized feeling. I

didn't know what I do here. The automatic writing of Pierre Janet, the analyst

enters. The patient accesses his or her unconscious by unplanned, spontaneous

release of language. Co sie stalo, what happened to me – tell me now. I don't want

to think about it. No. Nothing happened at all. Scarlett says, fiddlesticks – I'll think

about it tomorrow. I don't want to think about it now. No no no no no no no no no

no. A position of resistance, opposition, refusal of reality, refutal. It is unpleasant.

An incompatible idea enters and is rejected. I don't want to think about it. l can't

think about it now. No. Nothing happened. Nothing happened to me. I prefer to

think that nothing happened to me. I refuse to think about it now. I forgot what

happened to me. l enact repression here. l don't want to do it anymore now. It feels

wrong to me. It scares me. I push it back now. It feels nasty. It feels nasty and ugly

and ugly. How can I do this now.

How?

Stanley Cohen writes about “States of Denial”, “[E]xplanations of

discrepancies between official and private discourse ... a kind of pre-arranged

truth ... is constructed ... empty references .... that nothing happened expose a

primary thought process ... giving magical power to words, tries through them to

make reality disappear because one wishes to deny it .... 68 Not wanting to know,

refusing to know.”69

“Narratives ... rarely liberate ... from the past ... the state of not knowing ...

forgetting ... only the victim’s original repression is authentic.”70 How can I analyse

my story? How will it tell me the story of my life? Can I do this through writing? Will

the writing release me? Will I remember everything? And yet pre-verbal memory as

sensation of the body appears to me. I have forgotten what happened to me. I don't

 

 

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remember now. I forget me. I deny me. l repress me. Or my memories are pre-

verbal, unspoken, unformed, outside of language or on the side of language, on the

borderline of language and the body where sensations are located.

The criminals say to my detective, “It wasn't me. I wasn’t there.” Eichmann

says: “I was only following orders.” (I know nothing). They were lying that they did

not know. They knew what was going on. The pretence of not knowing is

constructed. An obvious lie. He told me that his son now knows how to lie. It is

convenient. It is expedient. It is necessary and essential. I lie to me and I believe

me. I repress me. I won't think about me. I forget me. I abandon me. I think of

something and then I cancel that out.

They lived near the concentration camps and they knew that people

were being killed and then, afterwards they pretended not to know but they

knew, they accepted it. They did it.

“One smelled the smoke ... one smells the skin, the way it irritates. It has

this peculiar odour. And the hair. One smelled that.”71

Sigmund Freud writes to Wilhelm Fliess on 11/2/1897 that “Unfortunately my

own father was one of these perverts and is responsible for the hysteria of my

brother ... and young sisters ...”72

Freud writes to Fliess on 22/12/1897, “Have you ever seen a foreign

newspaper which passed Russian censorship at the frontier? Words, whole

clauses and sentences are blacked out and the rest becomes unintelligible.”73 The

censorship of the psyche. An Incompatible idea is removed and not permitted to

remain. An idea is removed, erased, forming gaps and pauses which the analyst

seeks and enters here.

Anna Freud writes to Ernest Kris in 11/2/1947 “I am sending you unabridged

correspondence ... list of passages to eliminate ... Unfortunately my own father ...

Absolutely strike out!”74

 

 

32  

Freud proposes the seduction theory where childhood seduction causes the

hysterical symptoms of his patients. He then reneges on his seduction theory,

“bullied by criticism, even faking patients' case histories – claiming now the events

were based on fantasy.”75 He thus enacts the public censorship of his own ideas and

represses his own life story. He says it happened and then he says he did not that it

did not, no. I forget my life by entering the condition seconde – a twilight world of

semi-conscious experience. I switch myself off or half-way there or less ... I have my

way ... with words. I weave a tale, a tall tale. I pull your leg. My life is a dream or a

film or a dream. Life could be a dream if I was in a paradise up above ...

I am Dora, the Wolf Man and the Rat Man. Sigismund Freud writes about me,

“working in two genres at once: fictional narrative and non-fictional narrative ... this

ambiguity so attractive to the novelist.”76 I am the ventriloquist Gerry Gee and his

doll Me. Little Me. A teddybear with a tiny teddy, sewn on now together. Miss, Miss

will you sew me a rubber willy? "The narrated monologue holds a mid-position

between quoted monologue (direct discourse) and psycho-narration ...(indirect

discourse) ... thus superimposing two voices ..."77 I am writing an opera here. A

polyphonic text.

I will invite my horse to speak now. What does little horse mean to me. What is

it now? Speak through me. Speak in me. I understand the story truly through my

body. I feel the story. It happens in me before words, before words were made in

me before I before I could speak. It happened to me before words were made in my

mouth. It is the mouth that speaks me. It is mouth that is centre. The teeth that tear

and bite. The mouth in the dark. Not I. The bottom sits. And the fingers, the fingers

jump and dance and jump and dart and leap. My legs steady on steady. My hooves

or hoofs shiny and whinny ...

Vanya Ania rides the white horse now hold on now what does horse rise mean

now rodeo story story to rodeo toreador throw off horse now I rid ride now or was rid

ridden ride rid rid rid right now ride now ride me I was rid ride rid ride up back pony

puppy I ride sally oh sally I hold just hold on now some one rides me

And the horse said to me you win now. I will give you two beautiful black

 

 

33  

horses if you let me go. Let me go. Just let me go. I will give you two beautiful

horses, black horses instead of me. If you let go, just let go and fall off me now.

Let go and fall now and off me. And go and fall now. I will give you two lovely

horses now and a third little one now. A magic pony. Sell the two horses now but

keep little pony. Keep pony. Keep little red horse now to help me. I sit in a tiny

room and through magic window now that opens from inside now and through a

tiny door that opens from inside now comes a tiny red horse now to help me. It

happens exactly like that.

Vanya Ania Walwicz tells now that to my old mad father the devil was on me

and in me I was on field dark field at night now and devil took me who was it devil

took me in dark and I fight now n fight now n fight now and win now I win now i'm jim

and I win I fight devil now eeble deeble but I win now I’m just tiny baby and I fight n

fight and he gets outta me I throw him out outta me he gets outta me through mouth

he gets in me up back ride backwards back speak says words back wards but I get

him outta my mouth he gets in big but comes out tiny speck a dust bait bite just

spent a little deaTH makes my words WIDE

In comes tiny pony big ears two humps on me what does he do to me to help

me tell me pony now tell me: dear ania dear ania dear ania dear ania I will help me

now I will help me I will tell story a story it is all is not how it now I will make it up to

me I will make everything better and better I will make you a hat now pink hat with

pompon on now a wally woolly hat n cap and story I will make everything better to

me I will just believe me I will lie to me now I will tell n tell now I will tell a story to me

and believe me what will happen next don't you worry now just lie sleep sleepy I will

talk to me everything will change me everything will change me now all that is up

will come down all sides will change sides change me turns form me I will dance

now to become more and another everything I want everything I want now

everything ania wants now what I want will come true now what ends needs what

needs end ned what needs be done I do now did do and will do now to make

everything come true what I want I get now what I wish will come to me what I want

to happen to me what I wish will do me what I want will do me what I wish will be

what will be what I want to me will happen me what will do me what I want will do me

what I wish will dome what I hope will do me what I tell will do me what I wish will do

 

 

34  

me what I want to have I have what I want anything you want now any anything any

any any thing you want now I will give to me anything you want now what I want will

do now what I'll do will want me now anything I want now any any anything I want

now anything I want now will do me anything I want to do me will do me all my

dreams come true to me what I want will do me what I wish will do me what I want

will do me what I wish will do me what I want will do me what I wish will do me what I

wish will do me what I want will want me what I want will do me what I want will do

me what I wish will do me what I wish will wish me what I want will want me what 1.

wish will do me what I hope will do me what I want will want me what I wish will do

me what I hope will want me what I wish to do me will do me I just pray now i just

want me I just wanna be happy I just hope now I just wish good god to hear me I just

wish now I just

My reader Margaret Trail proposes a list of questions:

–How are quotations to be used?

–The quotations are acknowledged but they become destabilized. They

become part of my own theatre. I appropriate them. They speak through my mouth.

I incorporate them. I say everything and eat everything now.

–How is evidence to be brought?

–The evidence in here in the non-linear format emerges indirectly, through

allusion, suggestion and juxtaposition. The evidence is never direct. The evidence

changes, the story alters, the verdict is always different.

–How is authority to be brought to the thesis?

–The notion authority is questioned here. The destabilized, fragmented,

segmented narrative offers a paradoxical view, a duplicitous arrangement, ironic

and unexpected. The fictocritical mode resists the linear expectations of an essay

format. I am Sigmund Freud here. It is I. It happens to me.

 

 

35  

– The content is – (is it?) – the treachery of authority.

– Yes, the treachery, the quandary, the divisive, multilayered mode of examining

finite statements.

– When the thesis confounds styles of “telling" and questions/destabilizes

the possibility of stable memory, narrative, account ...

– I aim for a simultaneity of viewpoints. But these forms of questioning,

confounding finite modes of thought already exist in Freud, La can, me and other

figures in conscious and unconscious narrative of psychoanalytical thought. I am

writing a dream here. The reader enters. I dream my life here and enact me and

revise me, review me, conclude me and read me and re-read me.

–Then how will we address the academy’s requirement for connection with

a disciplinary field and its experts?

– The work does cover a field of knowledge, creative knowledge and theoretical

knowledge – in a way of enacting it. I act and enact the themes of psychoanalysis

here, together with its duplicitous nature and its manifold engagement. Memory is

not a stable unit. I have forgotten me and I remember. The narrative is disrupted and

enfolds itself and fragments and scatters, shifts and changes. The account is here –

the story of my life, my diary, my history. I am the academy of subterranean

engagement. I am the arbiter of elegance and eloquence and confluence. I am

Madame Pompadour with salmon pink cups in the Palace of Versailles, in the Palace

of Culture now. I am scared. Now I am scared of professors demanding literal

essays, wanting to cut off my head.

Palace of Culture comes out. I launch it, at La Mama theatre, in the seat and

set of the maternal body, the realm of dreams and psychotic thought, on a bed

where I am covered with a purple wrap. I read my dreams and dream now. Kasia

Williams, a Polish academic tells me that La Mama is the exact copy of the Poor

 

 

36  

Theatre of Grotowski in Wroclaw. Wroclaw (Breslau) located 40 kilometres from

Swidnica Slaska, the place of my birth.

On 24/4/2014 I dream that I am attacked by a bear. I am a child again and it is

a white bear, a polar bear who is also a man dressed as a bear. The same man

from a photograph taken with me when I was four years old in Sopot when I thought

it was a real bear and was shocked and disappointed that the white bear had a

sweaty human hand that I had to hold. The photo taken then is now lost. In the

dream I am little and yelling help, help, help but nobody helps me now. Nobody

helps me. I am attacked by a bear who pushes me down. I am in white snow sheets

now, in bed. The bear push push me down.

I spend Easter with Sigmund Freud in the beautiful State Library of Victoria.

Two boys who study to be pilots ask me if I study law because his complete works

look like law books. I remember reading these books before, in the original Hogarth

Press edition, bound in moss green leather, printed on cream paper that was cut

with a paperknife and I remember the Grecian design of a silver paperknife that

belonged to my father and the silver paperknife with a squirrel design that was given

to me by the State of Victoria in the Premier's Literary Award. I am Sigmund Joy, the

writer. Jouissance, the pleasure of the text, I am happy here. At least – that.

Freud writes about hysteria and sees himself as a grand hysteric. “The chief

patient I am concerned with is myself.”78 The symptomatology of hysteria: the

attacks of sleep “attaques de sommeil ... so great a reduction of respiration and

circulation as to be taken for death ... anaesthesia or hyperaesthesia, analgesia ...”79

“Disturbances of sensory activity ... vision, taste, smell ... leading to paralyses,

contractures, spasms ...”80 The self is disrupted, distorted, caricatured. The effect is

caused by trauma.

I want to forget something that happened to me, to avoid talking about it, I

don't want to think about it. “lf a hysterical subject seeks intentionally to forget an

experience or forcibly repudiates or, inhibits ... an idea, these psychical acts, as a

consequence, enter the second state of consciousness; from there they produce

their permanent effects and the memory of them returns as a hysterical effect.”81 I

 

 

37  

cannot remember what happened to me. I forget completely or I forgot completely

or I want to forget and i

Vanya Ania come back now Alana ask me when will you get back to me now

horse said if you let me go I will bring two horses to me and a little me pony magic

pony it takes while awhile while I wait and wait now and then after some time after

longtime or any time what time is only now time now only now always now it is now

and happens to me now evil brothers evil sister now comes back ho, me and what do

I see two horse now one and two and three two horse plait mane horses and shiny

shine diamond black diamond shine shiny horse now black mane black hoof horses

and tiny pony like toy pony oh pony do pony comes over on a field of grass in dark in

big dark field to me wait for me this comes to me just comes to me just comes in me

just comes to me tow horse now one horse two and a one horse two horse and a tiny

pony left for me they were sent to me this comes to me this just comes to me in my

head now inside my head is one horse two horse and a tiny pony in a great field in

dark in dark field now danila and gavrila nasty sister jealous of me other people work

hard but you just do things now oh I do things because I have magic pony in me said

magic horse will tell me every and livbe liver deliver he will bring me you bring me you

give me gimme gimme I can do me now it comes back to me I do me and do me and

do me and do now I can do again to me I do me some how tiny pony said I will live

me now live me

" ... Unbezwusstsein ... unconsciousness ... conceptual memories inaccessible

to consciousness..”82 I descend now down a down elevator, escalator, lift, to the

middle of my tum where I feel I am ...

evil brothers come danila gavrila and take horses away evil sister steals me away

and takes me away and hides me and lies to me and she lies to me and steals me

and brothers take lovely horses away because they want to sell me and steal me and

sell horses now they steal from ania vanya they steal me and only tiny pony big ears

left to me and only hump one hump me and only only lonely to me and take me away

and way away now and only tiny pony left to me And only lonely only and only one

and only and I cry now and I cry now and I cry And cry and cry and then little tiny

pony speak to me in my voice to me and tiny pony speaks now to me in me don't cry

 

 

38  

now I will help me I will help you ania I will will help ania I will help now i just help

help now help me and help now I yell help now I will eat and sleep sleepy sleep no

says pony we will do now and do and do and get up and do and do me and save me

I have to save me I have to ring me I have to wake me I have to get outta me I have

to do this now I have to say and say and say and say and saved me and pony saves

me and pony save me tiny horse save me and saves me and I live alive now I live

alive and lively twinkletoes to me I dance now

I ride riderreiter rot reiter ride pony now and see brother now evil sister I can

see now what she does me and what she did to me and I see now I seesee rider

see what I have done i can see now sue see seesaw symptom speaks now speak

me oh tell me tell on me I see see now oh seesee rider I do me now I see what I do

now I see what I can do me I see what I can do now I see what I do now I can do

me I see what goes now what goes now I can see now I was blind but now I see

waS BLIND BUT NOW I SEE

will buy me cap a cap hat cap with bells bells bella high heel shoe now what

will buy me flats flat flat what I wore and wear will buy me will treat me bad n bad n

bad now bad n bad n bad will buy flit will buy flat lies n lies to me now I know that n I

know that will buy cap with bells n bells will buy will buy me nowt www will buy me

wrought I know now what she does me I know what she did me I know who steals

me I know that he said you know every I you think you know every ndoc sdoctor

deedee said doctor doolittle said that but I say that n that n that I know now that I

know that Freud writes me here that I remember my life over and over that I

reconstruct and construct my life now that I do and redo now and remember and

forget me and remember and forget and forget me and remember me and come

and go now and remember to forget and remember and remember me

“... our psychical mechanism had come into being by a process of

stratification: the material present in the form of memory – traces ... subjected from

time to time to a re-arrangement in accordance with fresh circumstances to a re-

transcription ... memory is present not once but several times over ...”83

I write the story of my life and re-write it and re-do it and redo it and do it

 

 

39  

again and start all over once more and do it again now and over again and yet

once more and always come back to the same tale and every time I tell it it comes

together and becomes coherent and I’m in pieces, in bits and pieces, since you

left me, I'm in bits and pieces and every time I tell my story

Poor anya vanya ania lets brother steal me lets brothers take horses now lets

sister steal me away lets everybody because I don't see what I do now not yet or

ever or do now I speak me but I speak me and think me poor vanya anya vanka

vstanka and very every time I fall over I get up again and get up now and start me

and begin now right from the start right now take me with you take me take with you

and take me all i need is my toothbrush bronia take me with you now but she didn't

take me and I don't wash my mouth now my mouthy is dirty mouth now ui stuff me

and stun me and shut me and won't say what I say now and shut me

And then I open me up again and speak me. The symptom ceases when it is

articulated. The symptom ceases when it is spoken, articulated, defined, placed into

language, enacted, acted out in the theatre of language. The symptom ceases when

it is talked about and out. l speak it out and talk about. The symptom ceases. l am

open again. l open and shut. I open and then I shut. I open. I shut. I open out. Now I

open out.

The symptom begins early, in my childhood, a dissociative function, a

splitting, deviation, fragmentation of the self, it arises when I am ... “faced with

an experience ... which aroused such a distressing effect that I (the subject)

decided to forget all about it ...”84 “... something very disagreeable happened to

me once and I tried very hard to put it away from me and not to think about it

anymore.”85 Something happened to me. Absolutely gloomy ...

Freud writes about me: “The ego breaks away from the incompatible idea; but

the latter is inseparably connected with ... reality ... so ... as ... the ego achieves its

result ... it ... detached itself ... from reality.”86 “I enter the condition seconde, a

dream state, escaping from ... the field of sexual experience”87 ... “in the earliest

years of childhood.”88 Yet the childhood memory is “simultaneously palpably real

and constructed, forgotten and then remembered and then reconstructed .... You

 

 

40  

projected two phantasies onto one another and made a childhood memory out of

them.”89

brothers travel with ivan take me with you says I anya vanya (even though

they steal my horses away even though) they let me so I come too because I'm

lonely because I'm only and then great lit light shone shines in middle forest great

light shines on me it is feather feather of firebird shin shone shinecrazy diamond a

wonder lit light in forest clear clearing in my clear forest now at night when I'm

alone and lonely at school now but happy bright light shine shone shin shines on

me from feather of firebird little pony said don't take that and don't take that it will

be bad luck to me it will bad luck me don't take this up pony said to me little horse

said don't take me but I did and do now I find a feather pen and I write this help

me this helps me this adds me and adds me this here that I do here a symptom of

me that I have to do now I write with my feather duster I write me a letter I feel

better and better and better pony said don't do this now but I do I write and I write

to me and some body and me pony said do not do this but I do you made me love

you I didn't want to do it and all along I knew it you made me love you now

evil brothers steal horses that steal my horses take them to market tupelo joe

went to a show they go to market to sell me out I come along fool fool I'm a fool but

I love you fools fall in love in a hurry fool fool village idiot I let them do it to me the

beautiful horses on market get sold now they take my money she takes my money I

let them because I am half way here only half way there not full quid not fully or

totally only fifty pieces of silver only thirteen pieces of silver they sell me and torture

me tsar buys my horses now Russian tsar buys horses that belong to me russian

king buys my horses now my lovely my brothers steal me my sister robs me

because I am half way and silly billy and stupid cupid and stupid little stupid little

silly oh anya now oh vanya oh oh poor me what will I do now what to do me? who

will help me what to do now they steal me and stole me help me somebody but

they don't help me I'm a fool now I'm a fool now world is cruel I'm a fool

tsar buys horses brothers get my money sister steals me away five caps full of

silver and gold coins now

 

 

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tsar say you ride horses now that I ride horse now says come and work for me

I know how and I say yes that yes I will do I will live a palace dress in fine now and

work tsar czar I will comb my horse now my horse hair I a I say yes now I accept

whatever happens me happens now whatever what ever will will be now brothers

steal me sister steals me horses gone now I'm alone now but I have little horse in

me to me I have little pony Russian tsar buys horses and employs me I teach now

Russian tsar buys my horses but not from me from brothers who steal me away and

tsar says be my stable stable table boy be my stable boy from stable be my stable

abel be my baby tsar says you will be my slave slavey says you will be my

horsehand horse boy groom boy groom I wash horse comb horse I accept now I

give in I accept now I say yes sir now I say yes I resign me I confine me I survive

me I will live in stable now I accept me I live on now because I have pony I have this

to me I have this I have horse little hunchback humpback I

have this I clean my mouth out I am clean mouth now I was foulmouth now I

clean me out I come out clean and clear I am the stable clean cleaner I am labour

now Freud writes about his dream how he cleans the stable out how he cleans me

now scrub and rub and scrub with my toothbrush now I clean my mouth out I am

clean now no muddy eddie edie no muddy tiny tina no just clean ania I dream that I

have to clean now. Place is dirty. Abjection, the abject stable, the dirty self, the dirty

life and story. I have to clean now and order me. But in the dream I get scared and

run away from the dirty person who sleeps now. Freud writes about affects in

dreams: “The ideational material has undergone displacements and substitutions

whereas the affects have remained unaltered.”90 He writes and I write here: “My

self-analysis is ... the most essential thing I have at present and it promises to

become of the greatest value to me as it reaches its end.”91 The dirty self, the dirty

teeth, the dirty mouth and then the clean and proper propre, the clean self sorted

out. But Freud doubts me here: “I can only analyse myself with the help obtained

objectively (like an outsider). Genuine self-analysis is impossible ...”92 But still, I try

and try and try again here ... l work this out.

I have to clean and clear and clean and clear I have to sweep and steep and

push push now I have to clear out and make sure horse shine and shine and shiny

horse now brush brushy brush now up and down and comb my hair and comb me

 

 

42  

and clean out now and tsar gives me shoes and caps and shoes and that's and I job

now I have to do now I have to join one thing to another and join up now and clear I

live in the palace of culture the palace of the tsar now I work now I am hard worker I

order and order fast order I think clean thinks now I join and join now I push pusher

pen I push push button now I do

and do and redo and do I am head worker now my head is clear I can read now i

but jealous of me stable boy stable I stable table now there is horsetrainer

ochmistrz who is jealous of me who hates me now I refuse to believe that he hates

me but he hates me I refuse to believe that he hates me but he hates me hate hate

me wants to rid of me and get rid of me wants to rid me and ride me and wants to rid

of me and hate me I can't believe this but it is like it is she says other people have to

work hard but you just do things marionette mignonette puppe the doll and that he

thinks that ivan me is lazy crazy I don't do much but shiny horses are shiny I just lazy

and lazy on but horses look tidy I just can do me easy I can just do easy peasy I don't

have to do much it all comes easy to me it all comes tro me I don't do any but sleepy

sleepy yet horses are groom groom veroom horses are nice and tidy fresh water in

water hay in hay nice and tidy all there what have you done you're dig different like

that

What have you done to me what have I done now I don't know what I do till

I'm done did I don't know what I will do till I'm I've done I don't know what I will do

till I did it do do do I do little magic horse does me little pony does it for me in me

this does me this does me I don't do it it does me now I grips me and does me Act

enact now I draw me but nasty man mister nasty tells lies about me tells on me

nasty mister nasty and I think everyone likes me and loves me but no no no I say

no no no I say no mister ochmistrz tells tsar that I am witch now that I am devil to

me in me that I am evil that I do magic on me that I am danger money that I am

evil devil that I an am devil woman marty martyr tells on me aspersion projection

attribution now nasty he tells tsar that I have feather of firebird now that I can write

now that I can do and say now he tells tsar on me that I have power that I have

evil power I am sorcerer evil man tells now tells tsar to get rid of me because I can

do things easy because i have feather of fire firebird now because I can do this

here because I nasty mister nasty mister trusty whom I trust now steals firebird

 

 

43  

feather from me takes it from me what I had what I have now what I had what I got

steals me from me to destroy me to hurt me to kill me someone wants to kill me

now to do me harm and hurt me to pull my chord out to tell lies now

Freud writes about the case of Frau Emmy von N ... “in Abbazia a strange

man had four times opened the door of her compartment suddenly and had fixed

his eyes on her each time with a stare”93 “... in Abazzia ... she saw bloody heads on

every wave of the sea.”94

“... The affect itself created a hypnoid state whose products were then cut off

from the associative connection with the ego consciousness.”95 There is a feeling of

dread but I cannot name it.

The hysterical symptom ceases when it is verbalized. The symptom abates as

soon as is spoken. The symptom ceases as soon as it is named. Rumplestiltskin

tears himself in half when I, when I speak about him, when I name him. He exists as

a threat when he is unnamed, unnameable, unknown, not spoken about. He will not

take my child. l feel better when I talk about it now. The talking cure. The writing

cure. The naming and the words that shape this ... “The hysterical phenomena

disappeared as soon as the event which had given rise to them was reproduced”96

... unconscious thoughts and repressed memories ... brought into consciousness

...”97

I am in the stable of the tsar now stable with no windows now my lit light is lit by

the firefeather of the firebird I sit with little pony now horses are groomed horses now

with black horses and plaited manes all plaited now and brush brush brushed shiny

brush brushed clean hay now smell of hay and horses now smells horses I change

the hay now I alter in the middle of the story I am horsehand horseboy groom groom

now I groom now I prepare I am getting ready I get ready now red cap on with fur

and red boots now little pony help me konik garbusek help me now oh help help me

I clean and clean ready and prepare and ready now are you ready I am ready now

I'm all here and there I'm all here are you ready now yes I'm ready at last I'm ready

are you ready I'm ready teddy now I'm steady stable abel able I am steady on now I

am steady and ready I'm all here and here I'm stable in the palace of the tsar ui am

 

 

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stableboy now I sleep with horses sleep I sit in hay fever I am in the middle tum of

whale wal witz now i am in my tum and rum I am inside me now here I come here I

come here I come I groom horse groom in service I clean horse now clean mouth bit

by bit in mouth now I reign in I bit in mouth bit I mouth bit in teeth bit n bite now

chump chomp grass fed lead I am ready now I do this I say this I can do this now I

can say this now I can do me now I can say me I get into me into this now this gets

into me this this thisthis

I go to the cinema Gdynia. I go there everyday for a week. Students ask my

mother where is Ania. She says that I am not well, sick. She makes it up. She asks

me what I want to do and gives me money. I buy a lot of sweets. They come to see

me with a get well card and my mother pushes me into pyjamas and into bed. I can

see my shoe sticking out now. I laugh. They say: We miss you Ania – please come

back soon. Get well soon.

I go to the cinema Nova to see the Polish film Ida, made in 2013, directed by

Pawel Pawlikowski.98 I go and see Ida again, for the second time. Ida is set in 1962

when I am in Poland preparing for my first communion, with a white nylon dress

made from my design from Die Kunst art book I am looking at now. White with

flounces. That dress travels to Australia together with the white silk communion

dress of my sister. I prepare by reading the catechism. I ask the priest what does

this mean. He says it is not up to me to ask questions. I am meant to learn the

catechism by heart. I asked a question about language – “Maryja, uciekamy do

ciebie.” He will not answer but I think about god who is there above the altar. He

loves me and knows how I am so unhappy and thus he gives me gifts of language

and image, to make up for this now. l speak to him and he speaks to me now. Ojcze

nasz ktory jest w niebie, badz krolestwo twoje, badz wola twoja- jak w niebie tak na

ziemi ... Our father who art in heaven ... He is my little horse now, konik garbusek,

who helps me who will help me who will always help me now. He stays in me and

with me. The church is so lovely with altars of flowers, made daily. And the beautiful

pictures now. I paint the gold hair of angel hair. I am with angels now who sing me.

God speaks through me now.

And then in 1962 I am not allowed to take my communion and we are leaving

 

 

45  

and preparing to leave. I am locked in the house now. I am hid and hidden now. I get

a stripy blouse and a navy pleated skirt and purple three quarter trousers and a

canary jacket. I am going to travel. I am leaving everything now. I am leaving. God

asks me now why I have abandoned him but I haven’t and won’t and shan't ever

never ever or ever and never ever. I will keep on speaking and saying and I will paint

my pictures now. He is with me and in me. He is with me. He is little horse now and

big horse. He is the dark black smooth horse painted by Kossak. I leave my little town

and say I'll be back and I am four hours later on the express train to Vienna.

Ida tells the story of Anna, (Ania), who is about to take her vows to be a nun

when she discovers she is a Jew. Ida Pappelheim, the real name of Breuer’s case of

Anna O. My real name is Hannah. lt means lady in Hebrew. I am lady now. I am a

lady. Mister Donald Maglacian Smith, my teacher says I am a lady. He says Anna is

the only lady in the class in Elwood Central now. I am Anna in 1962 in Poland. I

pretend to be a Jew. I pretend to be me. I am the great pretender. I am a Jew

pretending to be a Pole now. I am pretending to be a Jew. I am pretending to be a

Pole. I am pretending to be me. I am pretending to be a lady. I masquerade as a

lady now. I pretend to be a man. I pretend to be a woman. Joan Riviere. I am a Pole

pretending to be a Jew. She puts it on now. She is pretending to be me. They say I

pretend to have an accent. I pretend to be me. I am my double, the imposter in the

mirror. Who is this speaking here? Polyphony as identity. I tell her we can never

resolve this paradox now. This will never be clean or clear. I dream about a monk

with gold robes. I say you are lord Buddha and he says yes.

Who am I now? I don't know. Life is a dream or a film. I find this out early. I

have to think like that to feel better now. I go and see Ida with Emma and Phil. I go

and see Ida with Alex Zubryn who shows me the Konyok Garbunok book, a book of

his childhood, written in Russian, a language I could speak and read in my

childhood but I forget it now. But I never forget Polish. It is always there and it

retreats and it comes back now. Ewa says, dla mnie ty jestes .... For me, you are a ...

I am a what, a who, now. I read Fear by T. Gross. I read Jedwabne about

massacres. I show films about Hitler, Swastika and Power of the Will. Hitler grins and

eats sweets. My mother says I am little hitler. I eat cakes and I eat Acland Street

now. I write Mein Kampf. His grandmother yells, “We were right! We will do it again!

 

 

46  

They do it again and again and again. They do it again.” Emma says I don't want to

live again. It is all bad. But I say I want to live again. I will try to do a better job says

Julian Tuwim. Where is god and what is he doing. He is asleep. I write in my diary in

1964 that he is not there. In 1966 I write that he is dead. The sky is empty. My life is

a story I make up. It is all just a story. I make up a story here. She travels to Vilnus in

Lithuania. Tell me your mother's maiden name and I will look up Hrubieszow. I will

visit a cemetery. But there is not a sign there. Nothing left and no one left and

nobody now. Not a trace. They make monuments now, something out of tiles ... like

a bathroom. Ugly. l make a statue here.

Life is a film I'm in. I star. I pretend to be me but I am never me. Not really. I

am a she who wants to be me. Lacan writes about the essential split. Freud writes

about fragmentation of the ego as defence. I'm all in pieces, bits and pieces. I can

veer. I can sidesweep. Right and left and centre. I will not join any club that will have

me as a member. I learn how to snail and smile and cover and recover and hid hide

and seek and slip and slide. I hid hide in my hideyhole now. Then I come out then I

go back inside me now. I eat and sleep and write my dreams down. Now I talk to

somebody that is me now. I email Margaret to say that I want to know what you

think about me, what you think about this now. I know that Eva knows what I mean

to say and Jacinta and Jessica. You have to feel me. I want to talk to somebody

who is me. She said there is this shattering, a breaking, a breaking apart and

shining, sparkling, spurting. I feel this in my body.

Freud writes about “A failure in translation ... known clinically as ‘repression’.

The motive for it is always a release of unpleasure which would be generated by

translation; it is as though this unpleasure provokes a disturbance of thought which

does not permit the work of translation ... pathological defence only occurs against a

memory trace from an earlier phase which has not yet been translated ... when re-

awakened it releases fresh unpleasure ... this cannot be inhibited ... the memory is

behaving as though it were some current event.”99 He links it to sexual events. It is a

sexual event, allied, combined, aligned, glued to other events and other events. And

more and more and more like that. He says I have a way of stopping my feelings.

The feelings that come back and return that are held, withheld, forgotten,

suppressed, put away under the bed and in a drawer, shut in and shut and now I

 

 

47  

open up the box of Pandora, dora, made of gold, steely lily taste of blood. I only

process this now. It is all done in another language, before language, under words,

on their side, inside out, wrong way round, not that and not that and not that what I

said. Unsaid. Unsay. Undo. Untravel. Unravel. Tear. Tear apart.

I am the stable boy in the stable now. Smell of dark and horse now. I work so

hard. The Russian tsar rules me over me now. I am the slave of the Russian tsar.

Horses nudge me. I clean a stable now. The labour and labour. The abject stable

boy now, the cleaner of my life story. Books tell me and I tell me and everybody

tells my story. I am told now. I am tolled. I am the Belle. I am twinkletoes. I am

Tinkerbelle. Kalakolchik. Little bell. Bellbird. Something opens me here. Sigusmund

says, “the idea that was not abreacted ... allowing the strangulated affect to find a

way out through speech ...”100 Words come out and come to me and come out now.

I am stableboy in the stable. The story holds me. But the ego is split. The real

events of my childhood cannot be taken in, eaten, digested, accepted. I draw and

withdraw. The instinct is to snail mail, go slow and ebb and enter a dream, a

daydream of Anna, of Ida. Freud feels my trauma: “There is a conflict between the

demand of instinct and the prohibition of reality ... he rejects reality and refuses to

accept any prohibition ... at the price of the rift in the ego which never heals ...”101 I

live in a boundless universe without boundaries now. My body has no size or height

or weight or age or sex. I am everything and everybody without up or down or high

or low. I dissolve me and inflate me. I am a cloud in a cloud. Anna talks about

clouds and cloudy now. I am little Hans “afraid a horse will bite him in the street and

this fear seems somehow to be connected with him having been frightened by a

large penis.”102

I don't want to see this or know this or I don't know what this is yet or have no

words for this or before I can speak now, so early, before I can say what I see to me,

before I know what happens to me now, before words come, before words now. I

defend me. I have to defend me. Freud knows what I do so early (the seduction

theory) ... a process of “isolation ... which finds direct symptomatic manifestation ...

a procedure that can be called magical, of ‘undoing’ what has been done, a

procedure about whose defensive purpose there can be no doubt.”103 I say – no, this

had not taken place, this is not happening to me, this is not what I see, this is

 

 

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gaslight, this is fright, fright, this is not what I see, does not does not happen to me,

this is not what, this can't be. I will undo me. I will tear me in half. Rumplestiltskin. I'm

so angry. Because I so angry. Coz I baby

Freud's “patient does not remember anything of what he has forgotten and

repressed but acts it out. He reproduces it not as a memory but as an action; he

repeats it, without ... knowing he is repeating it.”104 I act and enact my story. I put on

a black beard. I put on a red coat. I put a crown on my head. Who am I now? Tell

me. I put on a red coat. I am the king now. I am king. I am the Russian tsar who

keeps me hid in a cellar who keeps me in the stable now. I am king. I am member. I

play what hurts me.

I ask my father to draw a horse for me. He works with horses and I think that

he must know how to draw. But I find out that he can’t draw a horse at all. “God as

father-substitute ... copy of the father experienced in childhood ... memory trace of

the primal father105 ... animals as father substitutes, as ... totem animals.”106 Freud

tells me and tells me. He is my good father now. I am his daughter Anna. I know

now. I am the daughter of the engineer Henryk Milicja, the polish pilot, the hero.

But I know that I am the daughter of crazy vet father who does anything now nasty

bad deeds now anything hero of Russian army flypaper with flies polish sausage

countryside beskidy mountains and plains bobrowice now – everything ruins and

ruined bits of war wartimes bad deeds I am attacked by the bear father bear little

doll that is attacked by bear or bear sleeps me slaps me hits me attacks me

acraTCH ME CUT ME PUSH PUSH ME NOW PUSH INTO ME BACK

BACKWAAR BACKWARDS

I can draw horse now rider I am my good father bad father I am good mum bad

mum melanie klein I am all this way and that way n this n that and two ways there

an no way where introjection of the evil father now who says this who speaks here

this is my father speaking now mister vet poet nasty soldier nasty old man crazy

dead dad speaks jingle jumbles and rides through the forest now TELLS ME

POEMS erlkönig king of fairies of forest comes out and says to me what he says to

me now come to me my child and come to me now earlking king afforest dark forest

in Russia of red and green lollies in roll hills on my horse now mad father daddy of

 

 

49  

Sylvia rides now

Adolf Hitler paints watercolours. He throws his words around. He gestures. He

is on film and radio now. Adolf Hitler arranges parades. He reads his work now and

gesticulates. Adolf Hitler has people painted in gold sitting on gold fish. He has

crusaders wearing swastikas on their armour. He has parades where they wear

Roman togas with swastikas. He has swastika cups and cufflinks. (He arranges the

show of Degenerate Art which I see in Melbourne in 2012, The Mad Square. The

best art.) Adolf Hitler loves the pornographic painting of Leda and the Swan. He

likes realism and naturalism. His taste is sentimental and homely. Happy country

life. Heimlich. I am unheimlich now. I am unhomely. I try to be homely. I try to fit in

now. But I am unhomely and uneasy. Adolf Hitler burns the books of Freud. My

books covered in green leather. He publishes an encyclopaedia of racist lists and

types. He measures my nose. He commissions ghastly and realistic sculptures of

musclebound boys. He orders fecund cow females. He orders soup picnics and

communal songs. He writes literal essays. He makes films which make me cry now.

He makes documentaries of happy soldiers shooting Polish children on the way to

school on the first of September. We watch them at school and we cry and cry and

then I don't cry now. I never cry. The snow queen sews an icy shard in my heart.

She wears white furs of white polar bears and white foxes. She is Venus in Furs.

She is made of ice. I become the icy icy Queen now. I put on my white dress. This

is my wedding. I don't feel anything. Znieczulenie. Dissasociated state. Numb and

dumb. Silent. Mussulman state. Resigned. ! resign now. I numb out. Adolf Hitler

takes out his revolver. I dream that he is on his knees asking me to forgive him – oh

forgive me Ania. But I don't and won't do it now. I say – no.

I am vanya ania at stable at stableboy now I hope to survive now in stable

table in order in stable where I clean now with clean kitchen they fumigate now

war is over and not over ever over not over ever yet I am ania disguised as vanya

stablehand boy now with my fur cap on my fur head and red boots and blue coat

that I wear with fur with white fur now fur hat on head fur head on head I have

fever ich hab feber faber pencil now draw with charcoal I have that I live in stable

now in hay over hay maker in hay loft that can burn now in mud in my mid in mid

tum mid head is virus now start again now vaznya ania I am in hay loft stable

 

 

50  

hand in hay maker of hay fresh hay that I put in stable where I live now

bearskinner where I live animal with animals now cats and rats and horses now

that I clean over and over that i clean now that I clean over and again now

whwee I am in mid term middle now in mid book now in between start and end

now in mid term in mid turn in mid middle of me now in mid sud in mid oust in

mid south and west now in mid tongue midgard earth in underside of palace now

where I know everything that had happened that happens and will that I know

kapische everything where I understand now walls are gold now hay and horses

of first order top race horses with gold manes and red red ribbons tied in plaits

and manes plaits and horse plaits and mane plaits and horse mane plaits and

plait tails ties in tails and plaits in wound round and around soft dark velvet dark

black manes and velvet skin and soft noses oh horses muzzle nuzzle me now

lick my carrot hand and bite my sugar sticks and cubes and munch hay and

green and munch now bags smells of horses and fresh horses I neigh speak

horse lips now my lips teeth horse teeth of horses little pony pet pony says to me

don't worry nobody else around and around round I am by myself with horse

horses little pony says puss in boots says don't worry this will help me now says

don’t worry I am in mid term in tern prison to me I’m imprisoned by Russian tsar

to me in me now I’m in prison hay loft kept in loft she said they will take you to

prison they will make me they will take me the stable hand now kitchen hand of

kitchen please help me god help me god assist me god help me little pony help

me little pony help me pony konik garbusek he will help me he is my mine hope

me he is my help me he is my hope me he is my

but ochmistrz stable boss of stable tells tsar on me that I have a pen now that I

write here that tsar knows that I have firebird feather of the firebird fire that I keep

this from the tsar now that tsar does know how that tsar calls me now I am called to I

am called out I am shaken out I am told to I am aim to I am told to I am tole to I obey

now I am servant prisoner I have number I am order short order I cook me now I do

what I have to do now I can see that I have to do what I have to do now I have

feather of firebird that I write now bespoke spoke speak up now upspeak and speak

up spoke unspeak bespeak bo spoke speaks me here who and pony told me not to

do be law lava law lawyer I study but adolf hitler won't let me or ever i have to report

to tsar now I have to report me and own up now I start a speak up group I start a

 

 

51  

group now I won up I speak up I do me at least I can do me now at least I can say

me at least I can now I write me tsar wants to know how and where now I front up I

front now I tell him how tsar calls me now explain me explain me he wants to write

what I am he wants to know how he wants be a writer I am teacher of me now I will

tell me a wide range a big range now a wide feel offeel now this makes me feel me

this makes me this connects me up now this is what I do take photos now of me do

law here i write like this now i write in e I write in b god help me now “This is the

mystery of sacrifice. For the smoke ascending arouses this blue light to kindle, and

when it kindles, it joins the white light and the candle burns in oneness. Above the

white light hovers a concealed light, encompassing it. Here abides supernatural

mystery.”107 God sees what I had made and behold it is very good. I make this and

this is very good. but I am in stableboy now I am lowly low and low now I am ill and

tired and ill and old now jestem stara i chora I am in a dark hut now in dark under in

darkness now and in dark but I aim to come out I aim to recover I get younger and

younger I'm your grandmother now but I didn't eat so I got younger and younger and

smaller and smaller and I'm little girl now just little girl I want her to like me to give

me star gold star a and ten out of ten now and then and then and then the prize for

first grade and year of book humpback pony that I get here I am good I am very

good now tell me tell me now

“Come and see: Supreme radiance, so this light would glow, and from that

radiance, delight to all- the right, by which gravings of engravings are wreathed.

This had been said and is written. How abundant is your goodness that You have

hidden away from those who are in awe of You (Psalms 31: 20).This is the

primordial light treasured away by the Blessed Holy One for the righteous, as we

have said…it is written: day of oneness.”108

now I can trust me that I can feel me that I can think me that I can think clear

by doing this by this by doing this by being this by going through this by being in

this by feeling my by being my by being here fully here by doing this by being this by

doing this by getting into this very by getting into me here by being fill full with this by

eating this clean this by cleaning my mouth now cleaning me by coming clean me by

clean by clearing me by brush brushing me now by saying this my mou moue mouth

opens now my tongue pink tongue by doing this and being this here and here by

 

 

52  

reading this to me in me now by being in me inside me and outside me in both and

watching me by being focus lens in doing this in being thus and this by doing this I

get in me I hook I attach me sew me with thread and needle to me I make me live

Freud writes about trauma ... “as cause of hysterical illness a physical trauma

... accompanied by fright and momentary loss of consciousness ... the part of the

body affected by trauma becoming the seat of local hysteria.”109 lt is my mouth now

here, the mouth that speaks the dirty mouth that opens out – them mouth now. She

said what a busy little mouth you have. It is the mouth now. The Cheshire cat, the

mouth in Beckett now. The mouth that troubles me so much. The hurts me. The

mouth of Freud, the jaw eaten away with a black hole now. He said that there were

migranes caused just by the way the head is held now. When we were children. His

father hurt me. Freud hurts me because he tells me and then he forgets me. He

tells me and then he forgets me. I tell me and then I forget me. But I remember me

here. lt is the mouth And the digestive system. The Alimentary canal the network of

my body. The pee pee and the poo poo. The medical diagram. The foot that

withers. The arm that can't bend. The back that is twisted. The illness of the body. I

eat sweets. I am given cakes and cakes and cakes. Sweet days. I smoke cigarettes

of my grandfather in Vienna in the post office of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. I

cough and cough now. I am Sigmund Freud and I smoke a cigar. I* am hurt by the

tsar of Russia who keeps me in a cellar. Who traps me in the stable now in the

abject stable now of abjection of Julia Kristeva. His name is Fritzi. He photographs

me in a lake. I am a little girl. He tells me I am I boy now. That I must wear trousers

and looks best like that. He takes me to barber the bat barber. I get short hair. i ride

in sidecar of motorcycle now erlkönig speaks to me now come to me my child and

come to me now come to me and come to me he knows these poems in german

come to me and come to me and come to me now iam ania vanya stable boy in

stable in hold position I bend over ... “neurosis determined by period in which it

originates ... fixed in earliest childhood.”110

“The mechanism of poetry is the same as hysterical phantasies ... the

symptoms like dreams are a fulfilment of a wish."111 I am writing here as acting out

the poem “erlkönig", the picture of nazi tale of art history that I look at, i like pretty

pictures, want to sleepy now, going to pictures with daddy every sunday afternoon

 

 

53  

and the eating cakes and sweets and feeling sleepy or half asleep and good and

sleepy and half-conscious and middle muddle me so I could be vanya ania and any

part of his story and listen to a story tell me a story and fall asleep sleepy and warm

and sleepy and eat cakes and creamy dreamy eamie me little boy I want him to tell

me I am good boy now

Freud writes and writes to me to me ... “ ...in every case, the father not

excluding my own, had to be blamed ...”112 yet, ... “there are no indications of reality

in the unconscious so that one cannot distinguish between truth and fiction.”113 I am

making up talltales and fairytales and tales and fantales and it all turns out true. I tell

me. I didn't expect it to be like this ... “memory ... which releases unpleasure ... ego

discovers this too late. It has permitted a primary process because it did not expect

one.”114 The symptom becomes physical. I have a dirty mouth. l speak dirty now. I

eat cakes and cakes. I go to the cinema. I have to. I wear trousers. I cut short hair. I

become a writer.

And then he abandons me and tells me that I invent this. I make it all up

here. Freud talks about false memory and invented memory and phantasy. I

make it all up here. I make up my life story.

everything comes out now all that was hid comes out all I push push comes

up forward all I hid hide comes out now all I hid hop comes out now all that was

below is up front all I push out comes in now all I forget I remember all I don't want

to think I think about now all I didn't do I do now all I don't do I do now all I did do I

do now all I do do I do here I all I had to do but I won't do here I do now all that was

below and is above me all that is ahead is behind me all that I did is in front of me

all that I was is in front of me all that I do here is all I do all I did do is here all I did I

all I do do is here all I did do is here all I wanted to is now all I had to do is here

what I think about all I want to now is here all I did not do is here all I wanted to is

here I all I had to do is here all I had to do is here all I wanted to is here all I had to

do is here all I want to do is now all I had to come back to I come again here I all I

had to do I do now all I want to is is this now only this and now all I want to do is this

now all I have to do is here all I have to do is what I do all I can do now is this and

this and this all I want to do is here all I can do now is this now all I can do is rock

 

 

54  

now all I can do is do all I can do is here all I can do is rock now all I can do is wob

wobble wig all I can do is bang bang all I can do is hit this now all I can do is all I

can do is hit this now and hammer all I can do is hammer built box now all I can do

is repeat now all I can do is say what I say she said stop

I am ania vanya in stable now in dark stable now in heart of story is dark room

and dark place here inside me is darkblack hid and inside a hut a dark hut bunk bed

and hide now and inside hut black huts and inside black huts and inside box now

and in inside trap in dark in dark stable now in dark hut in empty in dark where bunk

in bunk beds give six climb up where in dark of dark of edgar allen poe where no

hope is in dark hut now under underground in deep dark now where I sit in mid of me

in midst of middle story where I am now where I now am where I now am in deep

deep deep deep dark deep dark deepest deepest deep deep deep deep deep water

dark darkness night in deep dark black lake night in deep water under water now

under and under and not over nigredo dark black night of dark darkest black ink now

black ink that I drink

I put on my beard now I blackbeard barbeblue I unglue I turn inside me out in

twist now put my shoes on wrong feet put wrong feet on my shoes now I done did

come undone now I am done undo I turn my coat wrong way round to turn my head

now whizzy dizzy head you make me dizzy miss Iizzy you dizzy me dizzy izzy you

undo me I unmake me I undo what I do now I in vert me turn my head around man

ON MOTORCYCLE NOW WHO PUT ON ZIP JACKET BECAUSE I BROKE ME

BECAUSE I BROKE NOW UNDO ME BECAUSE I BROKE ME UNDO ME

BECAUSE I BREAK ME UNDO ME BECAUSE I BREAK ME HERE UNDO ME

SAID THAT I WAS was that I was on motorcycle now and zip unzips me that zip up

but can't fir or fit me or feel me that I can't feel me that something happens to me

said numb said I freeze me said that freezer van was wait for lock in but I lock me

jaw .lock now can't say or speak me that I lock me in house outhouse that I am lock

in loch key lost key lock in chains of a love now undo me lock in ropes of a love

undo me I put my coat wrong way round now I put on coat wrong waY ROUND WAY

I PUT MY HEAD ON WRONG WAY ROUND NOW I PUT ON COAT HANH

WRONG WAY HERE GO BACK NOW I PUT MY HEAD ON WRONG WAY HBERE

AND HERE I PUT MY HEAD ON WHIZZ BANG NOW I PUT MY HEAD ON

 

 

55  

WRONG WAY ROUND I PUT MY HEAD ON WRONG WAY THERE I PUT MY

HEAD ON man on motorcycle now side car push push now I have cap wrong cap a

gap I make do now it happened it happens to me what I do now what happens to me

what I do now I know that someping something that it does me this does me I don't

do it now I don't write me now I don't do this now this does me by itself this is doing

me without autor author who does me who says me now nasty nasty nasty was man

on motorcycle on made me cap out of leather cap fur cap now made a crown a gold

crown I am king now I am king of your heart now I am king and emperor I am

adolfwoofli the emperor of the highways and railways and highways I am toothman

now empty I am taken out of here nine circle dante dente dent le dent mister

toothman fairy land you’re off now I put on crown land now take taken said take me

pass said demon said demon to me said evil devil eeble deeble said who says me

wolf said wold wolfman ratman badman I take it all in now I introject insert put in

said assume a role take it in identify and spy and spy what motive constantin now

said was man on motorcycle who put on jack jacket on Ievick leeways no because it

was broken because I am broken now I break me I am broken egg man egg joe egg

splat king that is where and said motorcycle there was badman who rides me said

side ways sideway sidesaddle and addle coddle egg and done egg fries me I am

humpty dumpty empty what do I do now stamp stomp and bang bang bang said

drive cars on foot paths at eleven o’clock now and three at three thirty, man on

motorcycle on had jacket break zip jacket put it wrong way on they find me like that I

fall that’s all and put and said fell and a cc accident and then they find me to twist my

head around right way think said get my head around twist me and head that way

and that and said that this is the right way I am upside down they turn my head

around because of wind and cold and rainy I put my coat on no buttons no zip now it

will not for fit me or for me or for any any any body I am king earlking he says to me

what I become somebody else come to me my child and come to me I put in and put

it in and eat now I eat me what I did second stomach cow rum pig brain out crown

me put a gold crown king with crown and staff and apple now crown with staff and

crown I am earlking king of forest now nasty king my beard itch itchy on fyodor

dostoyevski smyerdakov I am nasty to ania vanya I am nasty now I am bad boy I am

mean crazy daddy freddy fruger scissorman who cuts off my fingers and arms now I

turn my head around wrong ways spin whizzy plate that I buy for my birthday

rainbow colour sopot in six years old now or early I know what I do to me I disrupt

 

 

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me whizz you make me whizzy you make me dizzy miss Iizzy miss spelt mistabe

mistake me get me wrong to me I am we wrong way round me I have wrong way to

me red coat on blood my blood bloody in blood bloody red now paint blood bleed

now nose out of nose out I turn me inside out to crown me high and high and

highest king and queen emperor ferdinand gives me medals I am dix dux prize

winner prix prize of road shows heart hearty now I amwinner of ends of rows and

roads and rips and rips and trips and mon mountains and mountains peak at peak

in forest fir fir and I sing I open my mouth I open my mouth now wider wide open my

mouth now wider wide open my mouth now wider wide here comes truck here come

crane to lift me up here come here you come open my mouth wider wide wider wide

here I come I am fame and famous fame I AM FAME AND FAMOUS FAME FLAME

I AM FAMOUS FLAME EVERYONE KNOWS MY NAME NOW MY NAME I AM

EMPEROR TSAR OF RUSSIA I AM KING OF DARK N DARK NOW I AM KING OF

DARK I incorporate now introject identify with now incorporate me into me include

me invite me include me slide me in now I am memm member I azm mem member

of parliament now I remember I am dizzy king diss dizzy Iizzy you make me dizzy I

spin this wau way and this way way and this like this and like this and like this I spin

around till I don't know where and who I am till I don't know who or what or where no

up and down no side way now I wrong way round shoe wrong way round coat

roundcoat I wrong way street now I upside wrong side sidestep way over fall down

stars come down and fall down and fall and fold over and implode now fold fold

down fold into and down fi fold fo fum here I come turn over apple now fly pancake

mouth I catch me out I know what I do now king of night and bright diamonds just

diamonds now cut sharp fold me up perse disperse I shard heart in heart I am ice

heart of stone now I'm alone now my hands hold me up I make of break string

puppet puppee doll now fall n fall now fall n fall n fall everything just how I don't want

and want now I break world now I break word now my empire of every which way

now all I want I want all I have I want now I want this I want you I want me like this

now like this head wrong way over feet left feet right feet not right either fingers gone

and bite mouth and bite and bite and bite and bite I bite me up and into I bite I bite

this shard into shard now I bite hard and then I softer then I just fall fall fall alice fall

then I fall down hole then I fall down now and sleep over and sleep and sleep now

then I sleep now a longtimes longtimes sleep like dead night now in dark place

sleepy like never ever dead and dead now sleepy days now I just knock me out say

 

 

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drops said I had hands alcohol on now hole and al and alcapone said cars

something slippy slips I just wanna home said park with park who sleepy now I just

naps and taps and raps and hats and rats bit crown bitte finger now lost tip said

showers showers for hours I just fall down now and over and over again now said I

fall over me now roll down hills and grills and over said shops or what birds now soft

I just fold roll royal roads I just sink now said whiss whisp whisper who said that

shard part of crowds in fold flowers dry rose floors I had a an oven had a go

fireplace now some one takes this away now they lift out lift me and I sleep now

I know how I stage this now. First I read. Then I walk on all fours. Then I ride

my horse. I play with toys. I put my beard on. I put on a mask. I look for me now. I

put on all my clothes. Then I take them off one by one. l unpeel me. Then I find me. I

find somebody. I know how to do this. I need a red coat. I need a crown. I need a

sceptre and an orb, the globe, the world. I draw the story. I always draw my story. I

draw this out but I know what will happen to me. Or I don't know now. Or ever. Never

over. I'm halfway there. Now. Always on my way. The subject in process. The

subject in progress. I am in theatre. I am a theatre in a theatre and I read a library.

But where is little horse? The little horse I write about? Where is the little

horse now? It sits in the shop? Somewhere? It is on wheels? The little horse

disappears for a little while. It vanishes for a time now in the dark, dark winter, the

little horse runs away now. I have to find me. Where am I now? Come back to me.

And I do now. I'm sorry. Guess forgot me. Now I remember. I come back to me

now. AEWalwicz. I make a stamp. I make a name. I buy the little horse again. I try

and try. l must try. I have to start all over again.

I read Julia Kristeva. I read this again now like I did before and I do it again

now. I understand it now J understand me now. I learn me. This will learn me. This

will teach me. I teach me how. I learn who is Ania. Who is the speaking subject

now? It is me and it is Julia. l am Julia when I say me here. She is Ania. The

speaking subject of psychoanalysis. She says and I say now that “ ...

psychoanalytic interpretations ... from the moment they are posited ... as

particularities ... of the real object, are false multiplicities ... these multiplicities can

only produce a plural identity ...”115 Who am I now? Antonin Artaud states that this

 

 

58  

is ... “a release of anguish ... animating the wondering anger ... the discharge of its

psychological evil-being ...”116

Julia says now that “ ... first echolalias of infants ... rhythms and intonations ...

reactivated by rhythms, glossalalias in psychotic discourse serving as ultimate

support to the speaking subject threatened by the collapse of the signifying function

...”117 Writing as a propellant, activator, as support the crucial survival of the little

horse that is me now; aided and abetted by the little horse, horsie, by my (clean)

mouth by thoughts moving round and the walk home at night, the exercise, the

moon shining out, cold in winter ... alive now. I am alive now. I am alive here.

Because of this because of doing this because of this now because I produce the

semiotic play of child language ... the play of the body, the torsion, the dance of

fingers ... “uncertain and indeterminate articulation ... a trace ... mark, imprint ... ”118

I leave my fingerprint.

The dance of my grandfather who cannot read or write now and who

dances to see god (but is not allowed to see god or call his name). I am my

grandfather with a black beard now who sells herring in Viino and I dance now in

a circle I dance and dance and dance now twirly shirley whirly I am girlie. Jean

Pierce travels to Vilnus in 2014, now Lithuania, now and before Poland and then

Russia then Russia mow in Vilnius ... Kristeva writes about cross-over border.

The lines are crossed now. I step over. She sends me photos of the old town, of

the town that had been left 70 years ago just the same as it once was. There are

doorways, dark doorways with smudge stains like old water, blood and blood

now. I can smell blood now. I send her to see Ida. She takes photos and photos.

There is a doorway, an old doorway with a polish sign saying SKLEP, shop, just

the same as the dream of the child. The doorway says SKLEP and in unknown

letters of another language that embroider now that I embroider that I sew now

that I cross over red sea now the sea of blood I cross over Red Sea now the see

the sea of blood in my blood now

I see Ida once. I see Ida twice. I see Ida three times now. I will see Ida again

and again and again, over and over, repetition and trauma. The return of the

repressed. What had been pushed under comes out now. What had been hidden

 

 

59  

comes over what had been put on side stands up now what had been upside down

stands right way up what had been lied about comes true now what had been hidden

is no longer hid I hide and seek and I find me or think that I find me out or I find me or

think that I find me

I dance and I dance now the language which is “semiotic operations ... and

their dependence vis-a-vis the body’s drives through muscular constrictions and the

... cathexis that accompany vocalization.”119 The semiotic mother tongue that I

dance now that dances me my grandfather who dances dervish on my way and on

my way and turn and turn and turning ... “working of drives of appropriation /

rejection, orality / anality, love / hate, life / death ... from the semiotic body.”120

Antonin Artaud says, “l am my father, my mother, my son and me.”121 “Symbolic

legality is wiped out in favour of arbitrariness of an instinctual drive ...”122

Ferdinand Céline says, “In the beginning was emotion. The word came next to

replace emotion ...”123 Julia Kristeva says, ... “the semiotic chora is ... the place

where the subject is both generated and negated ... where his unity succumbs

before the process of charges and stases that produce him”.124

The photographs of Vilnius, Viino ( Hrubieszow), Biala PodIaska, PodIaska

Biala of little towns and castles of my memory now in which I had never been or

never seen yet I inhabit me now. I inhabit me now because I write this down. The

plane falls down. The plane falls now. But I live in my little town where I don't live

now. I turn the world around. My plane is shot down. And yet I live.

Where is little horse now. Mister Hump back pony. Mister Humpty Dumpty.

Where am I now. I am in the library. I am at school. I read me. Pay attention now

and read me. My thoughts arrange me. One after another. One thing after another.

Learn how to do me. I have the magic feather I write with now. The firebird.

Feather. I have a magic pen now. I do magic now. I do something to change me. I

analyse me now. I am doctor. I am doctor horse. I arranger – I arrange me. Step by

step now. One step after another. What does this mean to me. My horse explains

me now. I understand me. I make lists now and points to ponder and a sequence

now. And a story. Tell me my story now. I tell me. My horse leads me. Little pony

 

 

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helps me. Guardian angel leads me over bridge and water. Guardian angel saves

me. Little horse helps me. This helps me. I get over bridge and water lead me now.

I get over. I start now. Right from the start. Little horse keeps me and keep me.

Little horse helps me. This helps me.

I will see Ida for the fourth time now. I see Ida. I travel to Geelong to see

Jean who will show me 300 photos taken in Lithuania in Vilno. Vilnius. In the dark

city. In the forest. I will look now where I didn't want to look before. I look in the

mirror of Lacan now. I know who I am. I think that I know what I am. For now. I

establish the symbolic function of language now. I move from the semiotic to the

symbolic. And back again. Hither and tither. I am in between and betwixt and

between. In between. In the middle here. Exactly. I arrange me here. I compose

me. I move in between the Imaginary and the Symbolic function. The Real

appears and comes and goes now. I get pictures and glimpses. I cohere. I stick

myself together through this by doing this by writing this by saying this now.

Words glue me. I feel me. I feel my words now. Not on the side of me or between

me but inside me in me. I am Saint Sebastien pierced by an arrow by Guido Reni

in the National Art Gallery on Sunday. This leads me and leads me now. l dream

that I see a pilot for a film, a preview. The film is called Hurt. It is black and white

and set in the fifties. Men in hats and coats walk down the steps of the Museum

Library in Melbourne. I feel hurt. And the next day the dream actually happens. I

feel hurt by a remark, bad behaviour. I feel it now. I don't escape it. I see it. The

feeling function. The arrows come. The dream diagram and picture.

Condensation, displacement, wish fulfilment. I want to do this. I want to. I want to

cry now but I still don't cry but I will cry .I want to. When

your sweetheart sends a letter of goodbye ...

The reading of the dream image, the deciphering. The dream as a puzzle and

a rebus. I teach a class on Freud. l forget to include the myth of Oedipus. I include

half, or three quarters of the myth of Oedipus. Why did I forget this? The myth of

Oedipus, my central story, half the way there. I talk about the faulty Freud, mister

joy ... The discourse of the paternal. But now I argue the way of the indirect mode. I

swivel and di verge. The maternal language enters here. Further ambiguous

readings emerge. I form a transference of reading method here. l fall in love with

 

 

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myself all over again. I feel better. But I am still in the stable able in the cavern of

the castle of the Russian tsar now in Lviv and in Harkov. In the middle of the war

now. I am still in war at war with me now. The split subject, the divided self, the self

in the mirror before the mirror – before the mirror is seen now. Before that. I form

myself in language. Then I dissolve in digression now. I order a book from the

library The Powers of Horror.

How do I feel writing this? I didn't know that it would be like this. I thought that it

would be wonderful, magical, like entering a fairytale land. Instead it feels confronting

and painful. As though I have to speak directly now. I can't hide anymore. The

breakage of language dissimulates, swerves, refuses to be counted. It is my

mask or was my mask. I have to take this off. I have a stone in my shoe. I have a

pea under ten mattresses I sleep on. I have a coat on my tongue which I had

cut. I have a cut on my hand which I have cut. I have a wound in my side. I have

been shot by an arrow. I have bitten my tongue. I spit blood. And the feeling

that I have to do this. My life depends on this. Only this. I hang by a thread.

Everything that I do or did or will do is here. Everything that was done to me is here.

Everything that happens to me is here. Is here. Undeniably, indelible ink. I can't wipe

this or hide now. Everything comes out. I confess now to me. In a room with a kind

lady. Listen to me. I will tell me. I tell me.

I perform this in a dark little theatre where I sleep on a bed with a purple

cover. I begin with a. I read standing. Then I walk on all fours and play with toys. I

regress me. Then I put on clothes. Then I take them off. I put on all my clothes. All

my clothes. Then I put on clothes of king. I become and become. Then I mask me. I

hide and seek now. Wind up my little tin toy with bicycle. Play with this now. I play.

But it's lonely. Talk to me now. I will talk to me. In object relations theory where I

am the only object to me. There is nobody. Nobody at all. The baby disappears. I

vanish with my little black cap on my head. Czapka niewidka. The no see cap. The

no one here. I am gone.

Then I come back to me – looking younger and better and better and better –

Wodna kurka – Waterhen. l cover recover. Vanka vstanka. Stand up doll. I never

fail. Because little horse comes in now.

 

 

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Because little horse comes in now and helps me. Oh help me angel. Oh help

me. Somebody. I come out of a dream. Peaches and cream. Lips like strawberry

wine. I am mine. It begins with me. Ça commence avec moi. Needles and pins.

That’s how it begins. I start again. I stop and then I start again and again. I stop and

then I start. But I won't stop again. No. This is a non-stop band. A show in 1962 that

stopped. I freeze me and then I thaw me. Snow Queen. Ice cream. All this begins

straight away. Neurological function. Dysfunction. A fault in transmission or do I

learn how to do it. I learn to switch off completely. The first year of life in object

relation theory. When there is nobody and no one to look at me or after me or touch

me. The sleep that comes. Heavy heavy. No dreams. I am dead and undead.

Coma girl. Sleeping beauty. Then the little horse wakes me. Awake me. The

brainwaves become steady rather than intermittent. Oh little horse.

I have a dream that my mother leaves me and abandons me. My teacher

leaves me and abandons me. My good mother and my reader Margaret Trail gets

into a seventies white Ford Falcon car together with the rude redhaired drunken man

from Geelong railway station who told me that I can get around when he stood in the

station entrance right in front of the myki meter, not knowing that is where he was,

where I was. She gets into the car with the drunken man now, Arthur Rimbaud, and

she drives away. She is at the wheel and she drives away from me and leaves me

and abandons me now. I am left bereft and abandoned. She says that I am not

abandoned but I am abandoned now. I am abandoned by my mother in the object

relation theory. l am all alone now. You abandoned me. You left me.

I was left all alone. l have to work out some way to survive now. I have to invite

and invent the little horse again. Right from the right from the start and the beginning

now. I START NOW. I am in a dark cellar. Piwnica. I am in a stable of horses now. I

am in a dark place. I am in stable of the ... I am the stable boy now. I am in stable

horse stable of Vanya Ania. I am the stableboy in the stable of the Russian tsar. lt is

dark here. It smells of horses. I shovel hay. I clean up now. It is dirty here. I am dirty.

I can't clean me.

Julia Kristeva writes here that the “abject has only one quality of the object –

 

 

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that of being opposed to I ... The jettisoned object is radically excluded and draws

me towards the place where meaning collapses”125 “... not me. Not that. But not

nothing either ... On the edge of existence and hallucination.”126

I am Antonin Artaud. l travel in the Paris Métro on the line to Maire d'lvry. l

have been hurt and wounded and damaged. I am Jules Verne. Captain Nemo. I

travel in a submarine. I barricade myself and isolate myself now in a castle, the

fortified castle of Julia.

“The constituting barrier between subject and object has ... become an

unsurmountable wall. An ego, wounded to the point of annulment, barricaded and

untouchable, cowers somewhere, nowhere, at no other place than the one that

cannot be found where objects are concerned he delegates phantoms ...

Separation exists and so does language, even brilliantly at times ... But no current

flows – it is a pure and simple splitting ...”127

“The first authentic feeling of a subject in process ... as it emerges out of jail ...

abjection of the self, the first approach to a self that would otherwise be walled

in.”128 l am the subject in process. I emerge out of the walled-in cellar of Edgar Allen

Poe. I have to break out. Jailbreak. Now I am bereft. My mother abandons me. I am

a subject without an object. horse becomes my object. This becomes my object.

This holds me and saves me. This protects me. Horse becomes my object and my

symptom. Melanie Klein, I ate my mother now. She is gone. Now I have her inside

me. I know all she knows. I am full of me. I ate her. She is gone. I am the abject

subject. A cannibal. I ate her. I must have eaten her because she is gone. All my

fault. It was all my fault. All because of me now. I am to blame. It was me that did it.

It was due to me and mine and me. I am guilty. I did it. She is gone. What will I do

now? Now I know how unhappy I am. Only now I know how unhappy I really am. I

am the abject subject. I am dirty in a dirty world. I am dirty. I have a dirty mouth.

Wash your mouth out with soap. Don't speak to me like that. But I do now. Now,

only now I am beginning to feel myself. I am abject.

I am Antonin Artaud looking and feeling terrible. How are you. Things are going

badly. Very. I am fragmented now. In pieces. Since you left me I'm in bits and

 

 

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pieces. In my cruel theatre of cruelty. I am, I become cruel to me. I fragment myself.

An escape. A collage montage. I become somebody else as an escape, an

avoidance, a deflection. Oblique, tangential, deviant. I break language, context,

syntax, format. I become a crowd of voices, I multiply me, I am a soundscape that

scintillates now, a vibrant text. I am not me or anybody. I shatter scatter helter

skelter. Everything is impossible.

“Simply to find basis in some unambiguous truth, that is, one that would

depend on one unique razor's edge.”129 Writes Antonin now. Sedge. “There's an acid

and turbid anguish – as powerful as a knife – whose quartering is heavy as earth, an

anguish of lightning, punctuated by abysms, serried and pressed like bedbugs, like a

kind of brittle vermin whose every movement is congealed; an anguish where the

mind chokes and cuts itself – and kills itself.” 130I kill myself now and yet I live. I am

the dead undead. The undead dead. A twighlight state, a ghost now. Not living

but being nevertheless. A zombie. Who am I now? Tell me. I don't know. There is no

proscenium arch. No division now. The theatre is everywhere. I become my

audience. I am the actor Antonin Artaud in a bath acting or being dead and

murdered. Marat in a bath. I am killed now. Dagger through my heart. A knife

through my head. Words are deeds now. I do this to me. Because my mother left me

and abandoned me.

But lzabela Ratajczak – Juszko writes to me now and sends me the book

again. I come alive again. Somebody speaks to me. Mr Tee places needles in me.

The current is switched on again. I glow. I have to try and try this time. I have to live

now. I want to. I aim to. I better do a good job. I better. Little horse comes out now.

Where have you been? I've been to London to see the queen. I've been away from

me but I come back to me now. I have to ride my little horse again. I get on now. I

gallop.

I am in middle middle right in mid mid mid story middle muddle I am right in mid

mid mud muddle now I am in mid mud mid mud mim mid mum mod mug mod mud

mid mid mid mud mod mug mimm mimmy mom mig I am in mid November I

remember month back in stan stab stable boy now inside vayaania where i am now in

mid mud in me in middle muddy inside me in stable where ai look after horse boy for

 

 

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the tsar his name kolynikolai I am vaya aya vanya ania now words play me a fur hat

on my head and red boots on me I keep my horses now nice and clean I rub brush

brush me my hair little comb hair I am lazy but little horse does everything for me and

helps me now oh help me somebody help me little horse cleans up now clean and

tidy fresh water for horses now clean straw on me brush mane and little red ribbons

plait hair now horse parade shiny nice and shiny and shiny shine sun shine little miss

sunshine I cheer me little horse is my good object now I am happy subject again I

write on now half way over half half because I can do this now way there and over

half way there nearly half me half and half now in mid way now horse holds me in

holding position hold my head up now so I won't wobbly as I sleep now but I wake up

because ta tsar sends for me stable boy stable master said now he told on me that I

have the feather of the firebird which I have always which a I have and I always had

that I can write to me that I can write now that stable man told tsar that I have the

feather of the firebird feather which I always had on me it shine shiny he tells tsar now

about it tsar knows now that I write with feather of fire that I can do me now that this is

what I can do now and always can now that is what is me to me that that is what he

wants to have now he wants me to find firebird now bring it to me I have to find

firebird now and give tsar to give tsar because a groom boy told him because I am

bright now I have to give this up now and give my firebird to tsar kolya because

ostler told on me because ostler sees me because I have the firebird feather how will

I do this now? tsar will cut me cut my head off what will I do now he wants fire firebird

feather to write with he wants writing lessons I will have to be teacher I know how to

do this little horse will help me he tells me now get wheat and wine to take with me

wheat and rye that will do me we take off now I ride horse now for seven days and

nights now over and over through mountains and dales now through valleys and

forests for seven days and nights now till a clear clearing green as green now

emerald green now thick and grass now juice grass now chlorophyll green grass

wheat grass kale full flower now flowerdale and teher and there is silver mountain of

suilver full silver like waves in silver wave big mountain of silver shoe silver and fork

silver knives on purple velvet now day falls now darker rainbow colour sky edge gold

with gold gold clouds with clouds and here and here we set trap for firebird which

writes like this now to write for tsar now so he knows how I have a firebird now out of

fire I feed I will feed with wheat and rye and wine and catch me out now try to catch

this now now and catch me listen now says horse just you wait and see wait for me

 

 

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firebirds come and I catch this now I can't stop this in me I catch me I hold on me I

hold this dear I catch me out now I catch me and at midnight mid night in middle dark

fire birds come over I hold wine and wheat and rye on a platter in bowls little bowls

now I hold out birds come now and fly in now like

big fire almighty fire burns now in me great fire shine birds now fire birds out of

fire fire birds now mid night come fire birds out of fire come over fly over birds our

pout of fire pour fire in clear birds now fly over in me now fore fir fire birds now fly

over now and fly now birds fly over then over fore fir fire birds now fly over flap fire

wings now in fire hoho great fire rolls now great fire balls now fire that is what I have

now have you got fire I've got fire I can do this now now I can fire that is what vanya

can do now sometimes not sometimes lost fire no fire I but but now I can do this

now I can fire that is what rolls over horizon now fire birds and fire I lost tip nose

now melt everything hot because fire bursts now because fire burns now fire birds

fly over feed to feed on fire brain on fire short circuit now there is fire

in fire I catch me now whole bird on fir fire bird now on fiery bird now on fire

set bomb now flames and flames sand fiery now there is a fire in my head over and

under inflame me makes me do this now does me I don't do this it does me fire

burns me now fire fiery bird fire engine now on fire giraffe burns now bruise now

burns I catch me now I catch my tail I am firebird now fiery in Russian fairytales fly

a horse now with wings over fire over forests so I can catch me out now what I can

do now tsar wants this he wants too do this he wants to steal me now he wants to do

this his son wants this but I have it you can't catch this I have it because I have it

they catch my tail now they copy but nobody can do me like I do me I do this

because I am firebird now but vanya catch me he caught me and has me by the tail I

am caught now and tsar takes me and tsar has me and tsar holds me and puts me

in a cage a gold cage I am firebird on fire but they catch me now they catch me and

here I am now I am caught now I catch me out

My mother left me. My mother leaves me and horse becomes my object. The

lost object a. The first maternal object. The book and writing. Robert Sollod writes,

“A concrete, usually external object has the power to reduce or satisfy an instinctual

need.”131 I become a firebird. I become a fire. I become what I want and what I need.

I become my whole world. I create a world. But it is lonely here. So lonely. I want

somebody to read this to, out aloud. In a library in Lorne. I talk to somebody. There is

 

 

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somebody with me. I talk to me. I play this game; I sit at one end of table and speak

and then I rush to the other end and answer me back. I am thus two and divided and

in dialogue with myself.

Jung writes the fiction of the self in a dream. “Then, to my intense confusion, it

occurred to me that I was actually two different persons. One of them a schoolboy

who could not grasp algebra and was far from sure of himself: the other one was

important, a high authority, a man not to be trifled with ... an old man who lived in

the eighteenth century, who wore buckled shoes and a white wig, and went driving

in a fly with high concave rear wheels ...”132

The hidden self emerges. Melanie Klein writes about fairytales that “in some

way or other reflect the features of the father and mother .... identifying with

transformed images of the parents unconsciously created by the child.”133 The cruel

tsar who enslaves me is here. Vanya, Ania, the actor, enactor is here. The one who

captures me is here. I capture me and I am the Russian tsar. I, the firebird now am

placed in a cage. Trapped. But I have my little horse who saves me. Klein writes

that “ ... the sadism of the child's superego ... derived from identifying with these

imaginary objects.” I participate in this now. I consume this and digest it. I am the

child who eats her mother. “ ... biting, chewing and spitting, interchangeable

equivalents of devouring, dismembering, annihilation ...”134 I eat the evil mother who

drives away from me at Geelong station and leaves me.

I understand me now. At least I know my story. I am beginning to know my

story. Jacques Lacan writes to me to tell me that, “Only a subject can understand a

meaning; conversely every phenomenon implies a subject. In analysis a subject

offers himself as capable of being understood, and indeed is capable of being

understood.”135 I can play a game with this; charades, rebus, a guessing game, play

and seek and I find me. Sooner or later I find me. I play with this. It is fun to do and

easy to do and it is painful but it relieves me. I accept the story now. I accept my

story, finally. Lacan states that, “psychodramatic treatment ... seeks its efficacy in

the abreaction that it tries to exhaust on the level of play.” I play till I act it all out of

me. I remember everything. It all comes back to me. Just the feeling of little legs in

socks and sandals and a little summer dress I wear now walking on pavement near

 

 

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little trees. A feeling of summer and being scared, always feeling scared now.

The fragmentation of the text and the fragmentation of the body. The

fragmented self. The body without organs of Antonin Artaud. I am a doll with a hole.

Inside me I am empty. My head is attached to some thing maybe. These images are

related to instincts, drives, Triebe. Lacan says that the images of fragmentation

“represent the elective vectors of aggressive intentions, which they provide with an

efficacy that might be called magical. These are the images of castration, mutilation,

dismemberment, dislocation, evisceration, devouring, bursting open of the body ...

the images of the fragmented body.”136

I am working through my story. Freud's Durcharbeiten. I produce anamnesis

here. My life story. Lacan's “subject makes himself an object by displaying himself

before the mirror.”137 This surprises me. ls this really me, the way I am? Who is this

me. But I am beginning to feel my feelings now. Before, I was detached. The

dissociated subject. Mister Cool. Now I am Anna Magnani in Stromboli. I am

Alessandro Furioso, the famous violinist. Something is happening to me. I am

abject.

Kristeva tells me that “the failure of paternal function to establish a unitary bent

between subject and object ... produces nullity in the place of the subject ... ”138

Arthur Rimbaud, my father (the drunk) fails me now. He does terrible things. He

breaks my language apart. He tears me into bits and pieces. That is what happens to

me. The symbolic function is removed. It absconds. The cruel and evil Russian tsar

has me in his power and keeps me in a cage and enslaves me. The mother leaves

me. The child, left alone writes fairytales and retreats, becomes encapsulated,

withdraws, forms an alliance with the little hump back pony who keeps her alive. The

university forms a wobbly alliance with her. She is disobedient or too obedient,

enters stereotype, echolalia, a flattening effect, an absence. “ ... the analyst can

perceive the imprint of that affect-numbed body, hands that hurt ... paralysed legs

...”139 I have a dirty mouth now. “ ... transgression of the clean and proper ...

defilement.”140 All boundaries collapse. I form an idiolect, a private language. I can't

tidy up. I desire the bad object. I want this. I enter the abject self through writing. This

 

 

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is my little horse now. I ride it.

In the court of the Russian tsar, where I am the stableboy, groom, horse

trainer, the servants gather to tell fairy tales, they tell stories, they make them up

now, they confabulate now, I make me up as I go along now. Tell me more and more

now. They want me to read my work and I do it. I like doing this now. It is doing me.

It is doing itself by doing. It is rolling off my tongue now.

The analysand confabulates and makes up a story; a true and untrue story.

Bruce Hood says “confabulation ... is the storytelling we ... use to make sense of the

inconsistencies ... that deviate from the ... storyline of what we believe we are ...”141

What is story of the self now? It emerges. But I do not cohere. I am made of bits and

pieces now. I do not feel myself yet, not completely. Susan Harter says to me now

that trauma, that trauma causes this ... “dissociation serves multiple purposes: to

protect the psyche by attempts to eliminate the event from consciousness ... to

escape reality ... to detach the self from the traumatic event ... to serve as an

analgesic.”142 l make up stories now. This places me in the real and unreal woe

world. I like to tell jokes now. I like to laugh. She said, you’re so funny. Give up this

dark stuff and write something funny. I try the “false-self behaviour ... suppression ...

a socially acceptable self.”143 I am inauthentic. I stop me. I want people to like me.

Who am I now? I will be who you want me.

They tell me about the wonder girl now. She is lovely princess now. There is an

ocean now, huge ocean with pirates all around. There is a lovely, a beautiful girl now

who sails the sea in a boat. She is the daughter of the moon now, the sun is her

brother. She sails is a gold boat with a silver paddle. She wears a lovely gown on

me. Maybe this is me now. What I would like to be. Maybe this is me. This could be

me. I would like it to be. I can be anybody.

The illusion of the self. Who is this Ania. Who Ania is. Who is this? Digby says,

you are really listening to me now. But you can fly off the handle. I fly off a handle.

The broom gets stuck in the door, which is pushed by a blast of wind and causes

the hinges to fall off. I am thus unhinged. There is always something wrong. Tell me

what it is now. I am anxious. My anxiety manifests itself in a total paralysis. I'm

 

 

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scared now. I can't do a thing. I can't run away. In a dream I push a pram with my

teddy bears and something terrible, a kite face appears from a ditch. I can't move

now. This begins in childhood. This is happening to me now and it is not happening.

I am on the side of me. I watch myself doing this. I am outside of me. This is not

happening to me. I am somebody else.

Bruce Hood writes about dissociative symptoms which “represent ... a

defensive adaptation ... psychogenic amnesia ... repressed ... denied attempts at

detachment and numbing ... depersonalization ...”144 The real memory is hidden

and put away and pushed to the back and stored under the bed. I will deviate now

and talk about something else. I will become somebody else. I will become who?

Not me and not I.

But I am beautiful princess in boat gold boat with silver oar who plays

mandolins and balalaikas and harmonicas and and and who I will be and become I

am on my way to become somebody else subject in progress subject in process I

become a lovely princess sail all alone on blue beach and water tsar says to me

that I must find me that I will have to go and get her and get to her and find her and

get her and get to me now and get her and find me now and very soon I will be like

that very soon I will find me and get me and become who I want to be and be as I

really because because there was always this lovely girl girlie I am girlie and that

was in me and hid me he hid me and I wasn't allowed to be me as I really and they

hid me and stop me but I come out now as lovely and lovey dovey and my lovely

and dress in a dress now and love me tsar says to me now ania vanya go get that

that I have to go get that lovely princess now and find me and he wants her yes he

wants to have me but I won't let me no I will not let me and I will not let he dirty old

man dirty I am little girlie and he is dirty old dirty old and dirty I am only tiny girlie

and he is old and dirty daddy teddy boohoo boohoo anya vanya cries now but I

don't cry now I never cry but I cry now tsar says that I have to get princess to come

over I have to catch princess now I have to catch me and hold me he wants me he

wants to have me but I won't let or let me I cry now but little horse says he helps

me he will help me that he will help me he will get me a new mummy little horse

now mutti little horse says now I will get girlie princess now wonder girlie miracle

girl now aimee I will find na d get me now where I want me I will go and get me

 

 

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where I want me little horse says we will go and get me what we need is two table

cloths spreads sewn with gold thread threads and spreads obrus now gold and

make out of gold bring gold plates now tea cups gold egg cups now teapots for me I

need a tent now and a lovely cook and cook in kitchen now a chef for me I read how

I make a tiny princess now I cook me how to cook me and eat me and process me I

am ready or nearly I need a tent and gold knives and forks and spoons and cups

tea cups egg cups gold plates and saucepans fach prepare ME AND GET READY

IN A GOLD PLATE AND TENT FOR ME I shout I get ready all the lovely eats and

eats for me seaweed and treats stews and right foods that heal me and build me

little cells and good cells and grow cells and good things for me and eats and treats

and make me a body a lovely little body so I can have me and love me I have to find

me and love me little horse finds me and loves me oh loves me I lie a beach gold

tent on me sea all around me in a speed boat speedboat propels and zips I do me

undo me put cream on me I get me ready I eat me and eat me and yum swallow me

and in me and lovely I'm lovely I'm in me inside me

She said you will have to get this in and get this out. I am my analyst now.

What do I mean to me now. What am I doing here. I am writing my story and my

history. Jacques Lacan states that “history is already producing itself on the stage

where it will be played out, once it has been written down”145 “... victories and

defeats ... the chronicle of the training of the sphincters, enjoying (jouissance) the

imaginary sexualisation of ... cloacal orifices, turning excremental expulsions into

aggressions, ... retentions into seductions, ... movements of release into symbols ...

”146 My body feels happy now. This is meant to be and happen to me like it does.

Exactly. I'm happy. It all comes out of me. It all leaves me. I have eaten it. It all goes

out of me. I get it out of me. It leaves me. I feel me. Here I am.

I am ania vanya who rides little horse now horse says to me konik garbusek

says to me now oto droga do oceanu this the road to ocean now way to see see sea

see sea rider now I fried little horse now who takes me to me this takes me to me I

feel better now this takes me to me you take me to me little horse now oh take me to

me oh take me he takes me to me this takes me to me when I write me when I speak

me I take me to me to see see see sea holidays now I take me to me Amanda puts

needles in me now wrists and ankles only it wakes me oh do me now oh help me

 

 

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ania vanya that's me now who me bewho I be me who be be be beebee mister

beebee bee oh help me now to speak properly oh help me this helps me this is horse

says here this is the way that’s the way this is the way to me this is the way to water

now on water ocean where ship oranje takes me angelina Iauro burns now in miami

costia concordia falls over but they lift me and drag me and put me right way up now

I swim and float now I play balalaika and guitar and sitar horse is my mode now and

my symptom here this is me see sea rider that is me here in make a maker I make

me all over in little letters here I make me girl girlie princess zubejda sa he comes

on land only twice a year and today is the day and today is when I come on land

here here I come and here I come here and here I come

Horse tells me ania vanya you lookout now look out for me princess comes on

land now make a tent in a rent make a tent now put up tenet here put gold plates in

and on carpet everything nice and clean and in order then watch her come in and

eat then watch me eat here and in what come what comes in now watch my lips now

many fold watch me eat now watch her princess comes in now put all dishes down

then she will eat me now red lips then play her then I play her with then I play her but

don't you sleep now horse tells me stay awake and catch her now catch princess

now catch me while I catch me now hold me kiss me hold me and kiss kiss now kiss

her and hold princess here here she comes here I come ovr on my red sail boat on

waves then I land now my hair long hair blonde in plaits and headdress no and dress

and lovely white dress first communion dress now I play a mandolin psaltery and I

song to me lalalalala I singsong now tralalalala

Konik tells me now you grab her and hold her after she eats me you grab and

hold me you grab this pay attention now listen to me you can't sleep or doze now

eyes on ball and ball now hit this now hot this exactly just like is I tell me wait now

tent up now tent on in good foods now stay awake to me she gets in I get in enter I

eat now I stay away awake now way away better n better n better ania vanya catch

me now I catch me I hold me I got me I've got me at last I got me I get me here I am

and here ania vanya catch me but I play guitar sweet n sweet me I eat sugar I eat

compote kompot here I fall asleep sorry sorry so sorry what have I done konik says

what have I done here I get another chance you grab yay grab hold of me spring

fever got a hold you grab me and hold me this tome I do it again I grab me I hold me

 

 

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tight this is it this time ivan vanya ania gets me I get a hold on me and carry me away

I got me here I get me

I yell help to little horse I get on top and we ride and ride all the way to

moscow now with princess with me in me I hold her braids you won't get away

from me now you won't leave me you can't leave me lonely I can't leave me now

no I won't leave me I will not not now I will never leave me now I'll never leave me

lonely tell me I'm my one and only I take to the tsar konik takes me we rise in now

little horse and I on top with princess wonder girl me in my arms I hold me by my

plait I got me I can't get away now not now

Tsar sees me and takes me to his palace now he wants me and wants to have

me he says will you be mine will you be my bride will you marry me will you be

tsarina now will you do this I am so in love with you now he tells me and tells me and

asks me and aks me but I say no because I am only little girl now I say no I don't

know what he does now I am only little now I am 3 or 4 3 or 4 he gives me cakes and

cakes now mister love now but I say no to dirty old man now I say no

I say no to the paternal function of symbolic language. I fragment me. This

happens early. I write fairy tales and tales now. I make up stories but they never end

happy. The weave and meander. I get lost in dark woods now. I get lost in dark

forest now. I get lost in a city with a maze that I build now but I want a way out of

this. I find my way here through my story. In my story now. I dream that I tell

students how to introduce me, like Vladimir Putin. Vladimir, Vladimirovitch Putin! I

yelled in a loud and pompous voice. I say you have to yell: Anna Genrykowna

Walwicz! including the patronym. I remember Russian again from primary school. I

am fluent and then I forget everything and forget me and forget what happens to me

and forget but I still remember fragments, pieces, remnants ... I am the ship Oranje

who becomes Angelina Lauro and then burns in a fire and then lives again here in

the library in South Melbourne, The Memory of the Pier.

Everything I place here forms a joining, an adherence, a conjunction here,

a coalescence. I am the “phenomenological subject of enunciation” here. I study

me and I study. l read and speed-read now. I move my eyes very quickly. Julia

 

 

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Kristeva tells me that “signifying practices such as art, poetry and myth ... are

irreducible to the language object”147 ... “the questions of the ... ‘arbitrary’

relation between signifier and the signified ... examining the signifying systems

... the Freudian notion of the unconscious ... the theories of drives (pulsions)

and primary processes (displacement and condensation) can connect ‘empty

signifiers’ to psychosomatic functionings ... or link them in a sequence of

metaphors and metonymies ... such a sequence replaces ‘arbitrariness’ and

articulation.”148

Everything joins me here through free association and the linkage of the

konik story. Little horse gallops here linked to my body. I connect me here

through the story, a manifold story. I fold into a story and present me and

represent me. I appear and reappear and disappear and come back again here.

l am the horse, the princess, Ania Vanya here. I am the evil tsar, introjected

here. I am the evil tsar that wants to marry little ania. I am all that happens to

me, will happen to me and had happened to me here, in my little theatre. In my

private cinema. In my head. In my body, inside me is a little house with a

theatre in me. I am the actor of my dreams which tell my true story. l analyse

me.

Julia tells me that “The discourse of the analysand’s language, pathologies

and artistic, particularly poetic systems are ... connected to an ‘externality’ in the

psychosomatic realm ... reduced to a fragmented substance (substance

morcelée).”149 l am the body in pieces, not joined together properly but adhering

nevertheless by the magic of language and enunciation of hidden ropes and joints

and of the structure that keeps me alive here. I am the phantom writer that comes

alive here, everything toucher, tochter, everything I touch here comes alive to me. I

am the little horse here.

Language attains a heightened function here. It transforms me. I feel better

and better. I play here. I play drums. I play a little drum in Danzing. I play a

saxophone of Peter Knight. I improvise here. Words are more than words here.

They play a Cabbalistic role of altered meaning and form. At night they shift and

form new words and meanings here. Julia says “the subject of enunciation

 

 

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introduces both semantic fields and logical – but also intersubjective relations which

prove to be both intra- and translinguistic.”150 Everything grows and multiplies here.

This grows longer and burgeons now. Everything grows and grows now. Grows me

taller and bigger and bigger. I understand me now. I understand everything. The

music of the spheres. The semiotic and the symbolic interplay now.

The semiotic chora “analgous to ... vocal or kinetic rhythm” 151 ... the body of

the subject who is not yet constituted as such ...”152 l am writing about the drives of

my body now. I want it all to be smooth now and smooth and cohesive and coherent

and understand me and not to fall to pieces or sleep all day or be foggy, groggy. The

little horse tells me to be alert now, on my toes, on the ball, on roll call, up early, do

plenty, look lively, be pretty, be my baby. I want to make a fine me here, refine me,

fine line me, make me how I want me to be. I am constructing an Anya Vanya for

me. I am making somebody.

“Though deprived of unity, identity or deity, the chora is nevertheless subject

to a regulating process (réglémentation) which is different from the symbolic law

but ... effectuates discontinuities by temporarily articulating them and then starting

over again, and again.”153 Julia says now. I agree and I agree. I am part of this and

this is me. I recognize this and I am the princess that says this. I start over and

over and again. I start each day anew to this. To do this. Only this. I am not yet a

subject here. I have not been constituted to be fully like this but I aim to be and I

work at this but I also stop this and get away from this and sleep and sleep now

but I promise and I promised not to and little horse wakes me now. “The semiotic

chora is ... the place where the subject is both generated and negated ...”154 I am

the rhythmic self that speaks and speaks here. I am the little ania. “The semiotic ...

articulating ... a continuum ... a connection between the glottal and the anal

sphincters in (rhythmic and intentional) vocal modulations ...”155 I perform this, on

the page, in my voice, on the stage, in your head, in my bed, just instead, I am

lead, I am dead and undead, I am sad and unsaid, I am fed and instead, I am glad.

Words come into my head. I speak them. They say me. You listen. They pay me.

Obey me!

I am on the boundary. l know what I do to me. I know what I do here. Julia tells

 

 

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me and tells me about “The thetic rupture and /or boundary ... AII enunciation ... is

thetic. ... the subject must separate from and through his image, from and through

his objects ... posited in a space that becomes symbolic because it connects the

two separated positions, recording them or redistributing them in an open

combinatorial system.”156 I am now in a position to understand what I do. I

comprehend my situation. I see what I do in this writing project. I see its function. I

understand what I do here. I know me or I hope to know me. I know this game very

well now. I can play it. I play it here. I do it. I know what I do.

“The thetic phase establishes signification”157 ... Signification exists precisely

because there is no subject in signification.”158 Signification includes the other. The

self as the analyst becomes enlarged by the real analyst. The situation becomes

intersubjective. I am talking to somebody, not just to myself. I am not just me and

mine and all alone in this. I am me and the evil tsar and the princess and the reader,

recorder, performer. I am Sigmund Freud now. I am clever again. Yes, again, I am

clever. I am the subject in the making here. What will I make of me? “ ... the thetic

phase marks the threshold between the semiotic and the symbolic”159 .... “The

symbolic is any joining, any bridging bringing together that which is a contract ...”160

The associations become less arbitrary. There is a law here. I expect a legal career.

What I wanted to do first of all was to be a lawyer. Before the evil tsar, before the

terrible war, before all that here. Now I try and recover a bridge, a boat that burned, a

bridge leading to the Footscray station, a bridge over the river, that which leads to

another. The map of the city and of the world. All that I understand here. All that I

read that coheres and makes me understand what happens to me here in my little

play.

Julia writes to me that “In artistic practices the semiotic – the precondition of

the symbolic – is revealed as that which also destroys the symbolic .... the subject

must be firmly posited ... so that drive attacks against the thetic will not give way to

... psychosis.”161 I scare me now. I beware. The treacherous area. I am drawn into a

dream state but I will not enter. Little horse leads me and helps me here. I stay

awake now. l never enter the resolution of the Oedipal phase. The evil tsar hurts me.

The language of the father is refused now. The self-construct undergoes dissolution.

I fall to pieces. I tear myself to pieces as Rumplestitskin, my name is known now.

 

 

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Everything is revealed. I hide me by a system of defence. I become a wise monkey

who sees no evil, speaks no evil, hears no evil but I know evil but cannot articulate

it, name it clearly. I am numb, dumb, silent. The gross transgression, the breaking of

the law now leads to a dissolution. I speak a no-language language. The evil tsar

has me in his power. He is my master. The fat man who ruins my opera. He tells me

I will be disappointed now. He forgets what I say. He is mister twister. He eats me till

I am none left. But I return because a little horse helps me now. I come back and

here I am again. I re-enter through the process of writing now.

My essay is a mix of various levels of language. I am a polyphonic novel. I am

an intertextual text. I transpose now. I go from one level to another. This is a

sonatina, sonata, opera. Play white noise now. This an ode, a ballad and a play

script now. This is film script voice over. This is a remix now. “Polysemy can be seen

as a result of semiotic polyvalence – an adherence to different sign systems.”162 I

am multilingual now. I go from one to another and another. Julia leads me. I am

Julia. I am everything and everybody. I am not just one voice but many voices now.

“This telescoping of the symbolic and the semantic pluralizes signification163 ... The

text offers itself as a dialectic ... of two heterogeneous operations that are

reciprocally an inseparable preconditions for one another.”164

I eat words now. I eat other people here .... “when the object that I incorporate

is the speech of the other ... I bind myself to him in primary fusion, communion,

identification .... it lets one hold on to the joys of chewing, swallowing, nourishing

oneself ... with words.”165 I eat too much. I gain weight. I become the fat author. I

know no boundary. My behaviour alarms me. I can’t stop or stop this. I eat more

and more now. I can’t help this or help me.

Jacques Lacan tells me that “The law ... is revealed ... as identical with the

order of language.”166 The words I eat are higgledy-piggledy. I stuff them in my

mouth. Stuffen, to strike, to stuff, to hit, to fuck. There is a lack of differentiation here.

I do not draw the line here. I order a disorder. I have to fix this. I have to tidy

something left untidy. There is a stone in my shoe. I have to take this out. I eat

anything and everything anybody gives me. She forces food on me, salad with little

octopi – ghastly but I eat it because her mother is here. I want to please. I am a good

 

 

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girl now. I want to forget me. I want to feel numb. I want to eat and eat and sleep and

be a baby. I don't want to think clearly. I don't want to know what happens to me. I

eat a wordy salad. I cook me and eat me.

Jacques Lacan tells me that “It is in the name of the father that we must

recognize the support of the symbolic function.”167 The paternal function is refused. I

say no to the Russian tsar. He gives me cakes and cakes. This happens early. I

don't want to know what happens to me. The name is withheld, forgotten, crossed

out, destroyed, obliterated. The paternal function becomes perverse. I have no

daddy. I kill daddy. Why? The Russian tsar wants to marry me when I am just a little

tiny girlie. What happens to me. I don't remember me. The evidence is

circumstantial. It is inferred. We will work this out through induction and deduction. I

will use clear thinking but my thinking is not clear. “In madness ... the negative

freedom of speech that has given up trying to make itself recognized ... the subject

in a language without dialectic.”168 I am the mad author who speaks about it

tangentially, through a story. I am rubber duckie. I made no money because I am a

dancer. Words rebound on me and run away from me and hide under my bed. They

fold and break now. They disappear so I can't speak now. No. Oh!

I am the hysterical subject who speaks in a flurry. Emil Kraeplin writes me in

shorthand. My dove is a little glove. Pierre Janet lets me speak and speak now.

Little horse comes out and little horse comes out to help me open my mouth. My

mouth was closed tight or open too wide. Here comes truck. I open up. At last I

open up. I enter a discourse in which the subject ... is spoken rather than

speaking.”169 I was told and tolled. I am good good good girl now. Good good good.

I forget myself. Then the little horse comes out to wake me up and steady up. I calm

down. I calm and calm. I cry now because I cry.

I am I am I'm evil tsar of Russia I'm who I am now I am nasty teacher who I am

nasty professor idiot who says this to you I like this then I don't like this then I'm not

sure no not sure I am nasty mister nasty who won't leave me I am nasty teacher

who is nasty I am doo doo daddy who wants to kill me how can I do this again but I

do how can I do this after 20 months now but I do it again now I surprise me I

survive me but I survive me now I introject this who speaks here mister nasty evil

 

 

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tsar of Russia speaks now I want to marry ania I want to kill vanya ania too I want to

kill now I’m on horse back bare arrow on archer I send out arrow now to kill and kill

now I cut words now middle muddle me my computer breaks now wolfgang

amadeus mozart who breaks now I remove a card inside I take out somepin porter

inport important say say say I am bad badly no bounds outta bounds now and out

order that is me here mister nasty boo boots boo boo boots say say I can do what I

want me I can do any any no boundary now and no boundary I do evil any that I

please me what I break everything altogether I break me shatter gun scatty scatter I

don't do what I do now I don't do what I do now I just evil deeble devil now I do

black me I dark me darkly I de stabilize me shift signifier to wobbly I break me and

break me I destabilize the signifier now what I mean to me I don't mean to me I

introject who must be who no now evil doodoo daddy I don't clean me I dirty I cross

me I ugly after wars and kill and kill now I don't know who to kill I kill me or kill me

killer dog day now I let loose foot feet wrong feet now right to left and down up

inside out and upside down head side head now on my flat head stand flat stand

ups of evil men serial killer oven plan mister asbestos here poison city drops acid in

me ouch water mouth but acetone breath flame sets this I tear and tear me tear at

fun fare fair run amuck nasty killer boils saucepans cuts sausage kranski lies and

lies now ugly mug shot said who did this this I pull her into cars I do terror terrible

things now in and out of class idiot teacher drunk idiot professor who says that this

isn't what it is now that this isn't lies and lies I make this up now spite snake snakey

bite I can do any any any I like prissy sissy who writes poems I get in late and hate I

just do omens silly billy ornery mister mars to mars eating grass and smokes old

haggy haggis over feet fall foot fall I speak acid talk and stumble words fall out what

stick me inside a trooth breaks grind she has take mine out I just laugh and laugh

now what this out squeaky silly means me nothing not meaning slippy slips this slips

out signifier shifts I can't steady words steady now or any I just lead armies to trorure

and torment I don't feel a thing now znieczulenie it all comes out and out I let it now

words break down I just hate ania vanya any any any gimme child little child comes

army I ruin pill kill pillage say I ride over in my armour said gun now mister gun that

is me master shooter general of lands master of mouth master of all bad who is tear

mister slash and cut now cut me down destabilize the signifier that’s me now who

speaks now must be part of introjects here mister king of land master of land fat

doctor mister fat mister fat doctor comes over what you got here tummy tum tum

 

 

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tum my tum this man comes he plays drum he plays knick knack on my thumb

mister knick knack paddywack mister hack all in black sews buttons down my sews

me up I get girls even I get any any any body I want what ania wants she gets what

tsar wants he gets I am mister evil now deep deep dddble eeble deeble eeble feeble

words come out I do page and page over say what tears worlds I what words tear

apart say who does this now mister serial kill killer again and again now why I get

used to it now why and why not now I gimme giver I do what I want now oh flâneuse

leniuch spioch I am grandpa grandma grandfather now I dance over berad no beard

beard I make error now I err I want to err transgress now it's so love lovely to do me

how I want exactly break rule now every opens me I shatter shat skat mister finger

nasty professor idiot now I don't know what I want but I do what I feel like that is a

bad man here nasty nasty nasty who is nasty now who boos bossy betty who bklavc

blacks oujt now I just she said when I drink and n dftrin k me then I break wordy

hurdy gurdy now oh whirl girlie whio rile round n around n round sabout merry merry

go round I am the war warrior worrier I worry me now and I don't worry let go every I

shred words wpor.l,d now shredder badder mister bad bad bad misterbad da dead

dada hobby that'/s me here shred bits dead daqd what I do to me I can still only

only bwe profwessor idiot diot dolt dotty dolt hlpot hbeat head now hit head over n

hit head over said brain brainty but now I stupid cupid I shoot now n I shoot down

just water board bread n cit cut cit ci si cut now si si rider hptrse on horse wars an

wars now medals go.ld n gold starts epaulets n hats n hats muy gun on ,my

shoulfder I am war warrior wae ar at war with me now I am bad old tsar cujt head

cute cutie cuts bad dead dad of daddxcy doo what do you do what I don inroject

now I inject introjevct introject I destabilize the signifier I cut me I kil;l killer kill girlie

that's what I do now haha ha dee ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha haz ha ha haz ha ha

hya ha haz ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

Ferdinand Saussure writes about the signifier and the signified.170 I write

about the destabilized signifier now. This is what I do here. The tsar uses a broken

language now. The broken language of the destabilized signifier. The subject

undergoes fragmentation as a result of unresolved Oedipal issues. The triangle of

the maternal and the paternal is unresolved. The speech is thus broken,

segmented, fragmented. The signifier and the signified do not adhere, do not sit on

top of another. There is a dispersal of the sign and the meaning now. The word

 

 

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does not align with the subject (matter). This is the deviance of the transgressive

signifier that does not adhere to that which is signified now. The symbolic meaning

is refuted, pushed aside, dispersed, shifted, crushed, torn. The letter is written and

torn to pieces and thrown out of the window. It is collected again and stuck together

with sticky tape but in the wrong order. The meaning is deciphered but remains

incomplete and concealed. The meaning is hidden. The unconscious is revealed

here, written like a puzzle, a rebus, a riddle. I can work this out now. I know what I

mean to say here. I understand me now. I know what I do and what was done to

me. I get to know my story here. He said that I found it very hard to clean my teeth.

It is so hard to me. The shoving of the toothbrush into my mouth. The insertion of

the sign. The mouth as a site of trauma. Language as a site of trauma.

Traumatised words and story now. Saying everything indirectly, oblique narrative,

the fragmented self and the fragmented narrative of my story. The broken word, the

cut tongue, the betrayal of a child. The word is broken now. The symbolic

meaning is destabilized here. I don't trust me. The story is incomplete and

becomes another story and another story ... Always another story.

I go to see the filmscapes of Yang Fudong at A.C.M.I. Images on screens

that exist in the transformative area of cinema and photography. An installation of

images that change and are connected yet incoherent and function as an

installation. One walks through the exhibition glimpsing the images and forming a

narrative, an incomplete narrative. Fudong sees the viewer as the director. One

can stay here for hours or minutes. The effect is astonishing. One looks at beautiful

naked women who hold snakes and smile, at wild dogs that eat one another, dark,

desperate landscapes and dreamscapes where cyclists traverse different screens

and reappear. Men carry suitcases. The viewer enters an altered state of hypnosis,

trance, entrancement. The narrative is formed from associative connections that

function in a twilit world of partially formed connections. There is an instigation of a

narrative here but no final narrative. The story lies somewhere very close but had

been forgotten. The incomplete remnants of the narrative produce a sense of

intensity. One is on the verge of saying something or thinking something crucial

which had been hidden, displaced, obliterated. The signifier is destabilized.

The destabilization of viewing and of indirect reading. One can read in a

 

 

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linear, continuous way, or skim read, very quickly, or skip read where only certain

phrases appear. All these different readings though seem to produce the same

result. One knows the subject. I think that I know me. Or I know the subject in a

glimpse-like way, in a shadowy way, a piecemeal way. I select parts of this text for

my performance. I will record these sections. I will choose them. I will choose them

deliberately and at random. The differentiation of thought and the selection of the

thought process. The chance arrangement of random sections of the dream

narrative. The dream is always fragmented. A shadowy meaning appears. The

signifier is destabilized.

I dream that I get on a train in Ballarat. There is a bottle of brown poison but I

throw it out the window. I decide to live. There are many exercise books filled with

writing. Jessica Wilkinson is there. The train takes off now. There is a back window

as in a bus. I look at the train tracks moving away in a perspectival viewpoint. The

exercise books from the first film I saw about the writer Collette who wrote in

exercise books while lying in bed while being interviewed by Jean Cocteau. Ballarat,

the site of my first writing job, teaching at the School of Mines, Ballarat in 1983. A

momentuous dream, relating to an earlier dream of waiting to catch a train that was

eluding me. This time, I get on and in, as I hoped that I would, one day. I finally do it.

Here I am. And here I am. Look at me. An association appears here of the beautiful

story of Vladimir Nabokov's “Colette”, about riding in a train, childhood and first love.

I also remember the dreadful dark brown bottle of poison that a person brewed in

order to kill herself because her heart was broken by an evil man. And I remember

Stasia who said that she was going to kill herself by drinking a bottle of cologne

water because she was jilted by an evil man. I dreamt then that it was I that was

drinking the whole bottle of cologne water while standing in front of the Cologne

cathedral. I look at the bottles of cologne water in the chemist near the market. They

have an evil glint. Perfume tastes of alcohol and soap. I wash my mouth now. But the

signifier is destabilized. I do not have the reader, the analyst, the significant other. I

am bereft. Opuszczona. ABANDONNÉE ...

And then a terrible thing happens. And then a terrible thing happens to me.

And then a dreadful, awful, terrible thing happens now. The school falls down. The

school ends now. Joseph Beuys makes an installation where the blackboard

 

 

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collapses. It falls down. The all-important blackboard with writing on it done with

white chalk falls now and there is no more knowledge. Everything falls over. The

university falls and the building falls now. The professors scuttle and run away and

won’t look me in the face. They run away now and won't talk to me. The clock falls

and there is nothing to tell the time. The dogs in Doctor Dolittle eat a statue of

Doctor Dolittle made out of chocolate all day until it’s time to go to sleep. That's how

they know what they know. That is their clock. I don't have a clock now. My clock

stops. The school ends now and falls. The building collapses. The chimney falls

down and down. There is a bomb. Something terrible happens now. The school

ends. My blue report book which I sold to the Defence Academy collection in 1997

which reports what a good girl I really am comes to the end now. I am no longer

meek and compliant. I yell on the telephone, “What is going on!” I yell, “I find this

most annoying!” The teachers scamper and run away. The professors hide behind

the speaker's stand. The school closes. They consider it the smallest department so

they close it. They have a business here. This is my business. Mind your own

business. There's no business like show business now. I am Jesse and I sing here. I

am the opera singer. I am singer now. Singer. The teachers run away embarrassed

that the school is over. I close the school now where I sit in a grey uniform, grey

stockings, gloves and hat, everything grey and blazer and that, grey as grey days,

grey and study in grey now by Whistler. I end the school now where I live as a grey

little mouse, Josephine. I become what I want to be – somebody else and better and

better. Who am I now? I am an opera diva in an opera. I throw myself off from a tall

building, a tower or a tower, a bridge, into the sea or deep river, I jump from a cliff or

a mountain. No, we'll have NONE OF THAT NOW. No, I don't. I live on and on and

triumph. The scaredy teachers run away now knowing full well that they were never

prepared for my lessons now. The boring priests scuttle away. I slap the desk now

with my fist. I tear my uniform and cock a snook through the window. I come better

and I come good. I separate now. I separate because the school is over. I pack my

bags and leave now. Something major happens now. The general Walwicz comes in

now. I am ready steady and ready .I separate now. No more schooldays and eek

and eek and meek and meek. The signifier stabilizes now. The signified and the

signifier come closer together. I fit now. I fit this in this like a glove fits my finger. My

shoe fits my foot. I feel good.

 

 

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Naomi Herzog takes photos of me. I don't know how this will turn out. I will go

to her house. No, l will not go to her house. No, I will not go to her house. The plans

change. She shifts. She goes away. I practice putting on my black beard. I am the

Russian tsar. I am my grandfather Enoch. I am grandfather Panafucy. I am Fyodor

Dostoyevski in the short story class and the party, the student party where we

dress as famous authors for me. I have a collection of masks. I wear them at the

theatre. I put me on. Who will I be next. The mask speaks now. Gerry Gee, the doll

speaks the words of the ventriloquist. Who am I now? I don't know and still don't

know. Naomi talks to me on Friday. Naomi takes photos of me. I perform now.

When someone looks at what I do. When someone talks to me. Who is the

authentic self now? Jean says that I look like a marionette. I am a puppet doll, une

poupée, pulled by strings from above. I move awkwardly now. Jumping, leaping,

jack in the box. Each movement after another, unforseen, unpremeditated,

improvised like leaping music. Something comes out of this now. She said neither

you or I knew what would happen and it happens to me. The photos join together in

a slide show fast or not so fast or slow, very slow. There is a sequence here. The

mask is a pretence. The beard is thick and fluffy. The lady with a beard or my

grandfather coming out of me. He comes out of me. The spirit photo of Madame

Blavatski. Ectoplasm, the spirit of the dead. My grandfather dances in me. Who am I

now. I am the terrible Russian tsar with the black beard on me. I am the Bluebeard,

Barbe Bleu – the evil man who speaks here and peeks here. I pretend and pretend,

I am the great pretender and then I take off the mask to be what I am. What am I? I

buy the moustache of Salvador Dali. My antennae. I know a shop that sells big

wings of angel wings now. The wings are made of white bird feathers. The wings of

the sailor angels of Jean Paul Gaultier. I put on my fetish show here. Boots of

birdfeathers break into flight. Tight shiny rubber coat and pvc trousers with my fur

hat on my head. I Ania Vanya cover my cover and uncover plunge over and under,

deflect now signify and multiply meanings now. The symbolic meaning grows and

grows bigger and large and larger. It ferments now. I stand in a red courtyard and

walk up and walk down stairs, the great “Stairway to heaven” now of Mister Zigfield

and down an and down in “Sunset Boulevard” where I Gloria Swanston take my last

shot and bow and everyone looks at me now. I am the famous actress and I am evil

man now. All at once and all at the same time. One thing enfolds another. I make a

film now. l x-ray me.

 

 

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I princess now want to marry but won't have me I tsar nasty old tsar with beard

a want to marry princess but she won't have me I vanya want to marry ania but she

won’t have me I want to marry now but I won't have me I ania want to marry me but I

won’t have me oh what’s the matter now oh what’s the matter with me oh dear oh

dear oh dear I tell naomi now that I don't want me I nasty old tsar Russian king want

to marry me now but no princess says no now oh please but no now and no no no I

want to marry princess but she says no I am old and ugly oh please she says no to

me I say no to me I am old and ugly now I am nasty old russian tsar oh dear oh me

dear dar dear dar dar dar no neyt no nie nigdy nigdy never never or ever will you

marry me but I say no I get bigger little one if you were bigger I would marry me but I

never grow now oh so bad sad now angry old lady little little now little old me oh

dear old me will you marry never ever Russian tsar dyes my hair but I can't marry or

ever what's wrong now oh every every thing now every thing is wrong oh oh oh oh

oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh I cry now I wish I could cry now I will cry and

cry and cry I cry now at last I cry I can cry

“The self”, Jung explained, “is a mysterious phenomenon that arises

spontaneously in the ‘psyche’ that confronts the subject, independent of him ... ”171

What happens here. Something changes and changes. I go along with this now. I let

it happen to me. I let things be. I let this come to me. I let this develop. I let this run

along just how it wants to run me and with me and in me. Little horse reappears.

Jaunty. Gallops with shiny pony hoofs now. Prances. What should we do now where

will we go now, he asks me. And I say I will go where you go now. I will follow you. I

dream that I find the little horse now. I lost him but I find him again. I say: I love you.

The Jungian self in its journey, its fairytale journey “formats evolving,

emerging, structures in process, not something given, foreordained, unmoving or

unmovable that might show itself occasionally ... ”172 I am the little horse now that

comes back to me again. I rise and ride it and it takes me where it wants me. Jung

says to me that “the spirit of knowing and intuition is represented by the riding

animal.”173

I dream now that the past is over and done with, my dead mother cycles by

 

 

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indifferently, the drycleaned suit with a silk tie that I bring to my father on a hanger

vanishes and he does too, after lying to me that he is my uncle or cousin Singer. It

all goes away now. Nothing is left but a field of green grass. Nothing is left now. Is

this what I wanted to happen? This is what I wanted to happen. This is what I

wanted to take place. I separate now from schooldays, from teachers that I wanted

to love me, from the ones whose approval was never granted. I feel different now.

The process of individuation that Jung called “a separate, indivisible unity, or

‘whole’.”174 But I will revert again and come back to this and digress and loop the

loop once more. Sasha said that one forgets the past or comes to terms with it and

puts it behind and then suddenly you are where you once were and feel it again in a

moment of abreaction. It all comes back to me. My little thin legs in socks and

sandals in the colours of the fifties, yellow and pink, walking near a small thin tree

with green leaves in summer or late spring and the painful feeling of being

abandoned, unloved. I long to be loved by the analyst, by my reader here. I form a

transference with the analyst. I form a transference with my reader. Jacques Lacan

counters this and reverses it. He says that the “transference effect is opposed to

revelation. Love interferes in its function as deception.”175 I cannot make it up to me

or reverse the past. I live in the perpetual split of Jacques Lacan here. I live in a box

called paradox, a collision of ideas. In the field of Jokes. Witz. Walwitz. Wal the

whale. Witz for jokes and smart smartypants.

I am planning a happy end at the end of the story but no, it can't be or it can be

and will be inevitably. I am not sure now. I don't know really. No, I don't know at all to

me. I will see in Waytensea Hotel. I will see what will happen here. What will happen

to me. This has to come out. This is coming out now. I feel this the way it will be.

What will happen to me here? You tell me.

The school gets worse and worse now. The headmaster rings to say that they

don't want me. The teachers worry that they can't teach me anything anyway

anymore. I am too clever. I try night classes at night where fat ladies swallow saliva

when the black ink gets rolled out on glass for woodcuts and linocuts. I try a hobby.

It is called art. The teachers tell me that I should read books How to Write. But I

know how to write now. I go on with this. Let’s go. The little humpback pony leads

me now. I trust, I hope that everything is going to be alright.

 

 

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Back to my story. I am the Russian tsar, old now. I am Ivan, Vanya, Ania. I am

the princess I want to marry. I am Ivan who brings her over. I am the little magic

pony who does magic now .I am the tall tale of my life story. Amenuensis. The case

history. I am the evil man in a beard, with a beard. The bearded lady in my photos

and in my film. My grandfather Enoch. I am composed of bits and pieces.

Vanya ania I bring in princess now wonder girl me because tsar told me and

made me pony helps me I bring her over I trap her in tent with sweatmeats sweet

meats now I bring her and trap me and I I I am told tole what a to what to do now do

this and this do this now do this and I do I eat me over and over I trap me in tent with

sweatmeats on me sweets n sweets and sweets I get so fat now fat ania vanya fat

writer fat author fat on fat now big books I eat me big letters I eat me big words I eat

me I eat what I eat now what I eat now intent in tent I dream that they want me out of

building so they knock me down oh love professor now does not love me

transference is over

The little pony comes along to me. Again and once again. The horse

says to me – You be alright Ania! – You be O.K. Go on now. I get on with this, no

matter what. I have to. I got to do this now. I have to. I want to. This wants me to go

on now. The horse, the writing function of writing. The writing process calls me

now. This making itself in me and making me here. Making me, unmaking me and

making me all over. All over again. All over. Starting again and all over

again. The gaps that appear in the speech of the analyzand now are the most

important. What lies there? Tell me. The transferential relationship with institutions of

learning is severed now. I am ready to leave home and roam. At last I am ready to

leave home now. At last.

I reflect upon the process of my writing here. The project began with

expectations of a personal experience and an elucidation of this process. The

psychodramatic enactment here is surprisingly confronting. I did not expect this at

all. The sequence of the fairytale events matches the personal events of my life

exactly. The dreams anticipate and foretell the events to come. I am in the field of

the unconscious here of the dialogues of Fritz Pearls. I talk to me here and to the

 

 

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reader who is me again. Self-reflection in the mirror of Fritz Laing and Jacques

Lacan. This is my photograph taken by Arthur Clover. I feature here as a famous

actress who writes a diary about me. The writing propels itself easily now. There is

no resistance in this analysis by now. I am the analyzand and the analyst. I am the

doctor.

Little horse – How you?

I am good now. I ride on. I am the red rider. I am the glory box. I am

Gloria. What should I do now?

Persevere. Go on with your story now. I am almost there. I am on my

way.

Arthur Clover takes a photo of me. With his little brush in Photoshop, he takes the

background out. I look serious and focused now. I look straight ahead. This is me

in the mirror of Jacques Lacan. I stare, determined, self-aware, knowing that is me

now. He shows me how to change files, PDF to Word. I know how to do this now.

How to change one to another. How to change now and change me over. I can

send me now. I can feel me.

old tsar wants to marry me now oh oh oh I don't want to no no no no no oh no

said to me said marry merry marry me marry me but I say no said wonder girl to me

won't will not never ever or ever no never ever or never no I say no tsar send me he

sends me he tells me he wants me he wants to do things to me I don't want to now

no

The Russian tsar the old Russian tsar tells Ivan to travel to the sea, to travel to

the ocean now. In the depth of the ocean lies the ring of the princess the golden ring

of gold now rhinegold the ring of the princess. You have to find the ring now, the

hidden me, the treasure, the talisman, the fetish, the object of deflection which

becomes the fetish, the objet a of Jacques Lacan, the missing other, the missing me,

me, the missing mother (that left me and abandoned me). The gold ring of Richard

Wagner. I am the open air opera in Sopot and Gdansk, designed and built in the

 

 

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middle of the forest where I see the performance of Halka, the folk opera about a girl

who falls in love with a cruel lord, landlord who claims her in the feudal right of droit

de monsieur rite and abandons her. She jumps off the mountain. I have to rescue

her. I jump off the top of the mountain but I land on beanbags and dried leaves and

mattresses.

I survive now. Now I know how unhappy I really am. I have to get the ring

now. I have to find me, my treasure, I have to make me into somebody. I don't

know who now. The perfect version of me. Absolutely gorgeous. Absolutely how I

should be. I proceed now. I ride my little horse that will take me. I ride away now.

The princess speaks to me now. Oh Ivan, she says, listen to me now. When

you come to my ocean, go to my violet sky-blue palace (of culture) where I live

and bow to my mother and brother. Tell them I miss that I miss miss miss that I

want to see but I miss miss miss missing you and missing me and missing, not

hitting and miss miss miss a miss amess amiss mess miss mis miss my mother

moon wan moon wean moon thin waning waxing moon my bro sun sun moon and

moon and sun sunshiny sun and fun tell them both now tell them to shine on me

ask them why she hasn't lit me night why she hasn't done me right ask her tell her

to shine now why so dark at night to me in me why so dark now tell my mother

moon moon wax wane why she goes away tell my moon to shine and shine tell

my brother sun tell me tell my sun to come tell me tell my sun and son tell me now

in violet blue shiny palace where I live now tell them all to shine and wait wait for

me now I am coming home soon tell them that tell the moon to come and sy

sunshine sun tell my moon to come and wax now wane tell my sun to come and

son tell them I am coming home and come tell my sun to shine sun son tell my

moon to wane and sun tell my moon to shine and sun shine tell the waves to come

wax and wane tell my waves to rise and shine tell my wave to rise tell my wave to

raise tell my wave tell my wave tell my wave tell my wave tell my life but I don't

have a mother now or brother or mother or father or sister or brother bratek or

brat or brother I am an orphan orpheline une petite orpheline a little orphan now

little match girl mermaid cigarette girl all alone now I am hermit Kermit I am lone

alone wolf girl I am wolf man I am whale man whaler moby dick

 

 

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I put on all my clothes now. I begin to put on all my clothes. I begin to put on

all my clothes on me now. These are stage directions for my stage. I stage this and

act it out. I am actor enactor in my little theatre. The theatre of my head. The

theatre where I am the stage and every character. I record my words with Peter

Knight. I put on all my clothes now that I bring in a suitcase.

Ivan Vanya Ania travels to find my ring now. The gold ring at the bottom of the

ocean. That pearl that is Leah ... for Leah. Oh Leah, Leah! I travel to the bottom of

the ocean to find me. I am Captain Nemo. I descend in a submarine now. Lower and

lower and lower. Deep in the deep, deep, water. Little horse guides me and follows

me and leads me. The writing function. I travel for thousands of miles across and

down and deep, deep down. The narrative is destabilized now but the writing

function grows sharper and sharper and more acute. This drives me now. This leads

me. This wants me to go on now. This pulls me along and pulls me and pulls me and

holds me.

Little horse tells me that we will see a big whale now. A great big whale who is

lying down. He is trapped for years and years and years. Nothing changes now.

The trapped whale now. I am trapped in a trap. My name is Wale now. Wal. Whale.

Witz for wits. l will use my wits to get out of the trap. I will untrap me. I will unchain

me. The whale me was trapped and is trapped now. What have I done to deserve

this? Why does this happen to me? I understand me now. I am beginning to

understand everything bit by bit. I am becoming brighter. My brain changes. It gets

lighter and light and bright now and then it gets darker, adumbrate now. Switch the

light on and then turn the light off and then on again now. The whale suffers but

does not know why it suffers. I must forgive me now. I must release me. The big

whale is lying down.

So sad now. People build a city on top of my whale head. They put pylons in

my sides. They hurt me. They grow a forest on my tail. They build a village on my

back. They plough a field on my lips. They grow crops between my eyes. Children

play under my moustaches. They pick mushrooms from my body. I suffer and I

suffer now. Why oh Why? Where do I go now? The whale speaks to me, in me,

through me. The road is big and wide now. Where am I going now? Tell me.

 

 

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The little horse tells me that we search the ring of the ring of the princess now.

We travel to the big city. We travel to the golden gates of the sun. Ask the sun,

please ask the sun what will I do now. What should I do to me. Tell me. Ask the sun

why I suffer and trapped in a trap suffer that. I will ask the sun. I ride now. I Ivan

Vanya Ania travel on the little horse now. I wear my fur cap and my red boots now

and red coat. I travel to the moon now. The moon looks at me in the pictures of

Caspar David Friedrich 1774-1840. I look at the moon now and I ride. I am the red

rider. Rot reiter.

I go far now. They say that I too too far but I don't care now. It's too late to go

back. I'm on my way. I go far and further now. I can't stop me or stop this. This is

doing me now. This is writing Ania. I have to do it now. This has to be done. This is

done, nearly done now. Four fifths of the way. Nearly there.

I fly on little horse now over mountains and seas all over. We fly low. We fly

high. We go so very far where the sky meets the earth, where horizon ends and I fall

over the edge. We travel so far where the people spin stars out of gold thread and

place them on night sky and sew them in and on. Vanya flies now. On and on I go. I

put my wings on. I fly and fly now. My country, my kingdom, my centre looks

different from here. Lovely and lovely now and beautiful to me. My palace stands on

top of the mountain. My palace of culture, golden and golden. Little horse tells me

that this is the house of the princess. I sleep there. I sleep now. I dream about this. I

dream about me. I am ready now. At last I am ready.

The house of the princess is in the palace. The sun sleeps there and then the

moon comes to sleep. They take turns now. First one, then the other. One after

another. My feelings appear in order. First the pain, then release and then

rationalisation. The causal effect, one after another. My thoughts are in order. The

ebb and flow of the ocean. The waves come over. I follow now. I flow now. We come

to golden gates out of gold with gold stars and gardens with heavenly birds now who

sing heavenly songs in heaven now .God helps me and guides me now. Heavenly

angel helps me. He builds me a house out of stars. I meet mister moon now and I

meet mister sun. They welcome me now and tell me to be true, be true to me now.

 

 

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They lost me and tell me now that they find me. They wait for me and wait for me .I

come over. They embrace me. I am loved and beloved now. I am as I should be.

I ask the moon, I ask the sun what should I do now. They tell me everything is

alright. They tell me to go on. They tell me and they tell me now. They say me here.

Here I am. They tell me everything is true now. They tell me. I ask them why is the

whale moribound? Why is whale trapped now? What have I done? The whale lies

in a clearing. The whale does. The whale lies down. Why do I do this. I am the

whale Wal. I am witz the witty whale Wal. What have I done? My sides are hurt and

sore, pierced by nails. My sides are torn. I am pierced by nails. I wear a thorny

crown. My sides seep blood and water now. I am pierced by nails. Why am I

punished like this? Why do I suffer? How can I get out of this? What have I done?

Tell me now.

The moon tells me and the sun tells me now that the whale that I am ate thirty

ships and swallowed them all down. The whale ate and ate now. The whale ate

and ate and ate. .I ate thirty ships now. Swallowed them all down. Why did I eat

now. I don't know now but I'll find out. The moon and the sun tell that once I let the

thirty ships out, I'll be right. Once I let the thirty ships come out of my mouth, I'll be

right now. Once I let this go out. Once I say what I want to say and empty my

mouth. Once I let the ships out, my wounds will heal on my side. Once I let the

ships out. Once I let my words come out here. Once I am let out. I am trapped in

the belly of whale. Now I come out. I am leadbelly now. Once I am out,,I let thirty

ships come out of my mouth and swim out. I can move now.

I eat ear eat I eat n eat what do I eat eats me I stuff stuffen strick struck stick I

stuffen eat n eat to push push down to fight down deny me do it again and again I

can't help it now girl can't help it can't help me now can't stop it when it comes out

eat eater makes me make it I don't do it it does me eat eater eat eater sin eater

because I was because I am told to eat now you be good girl to me now I put on

clothes all my clothes now I put me on and out why do I do it I don't know now it

does me this does me over n over said why do it now said over and over twice or

over or once not over n again now said why do I do it why do it why do it now why do

I why do it why do I do it why do it why I why I don't know why or ever or over why

 

 

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do it I do it said said why do I do it I don't know now this makes me do it bang a drum

tum tum then I sleep over or ever how long n long n long why do it do do it said why

do I do it now said so it I can't help me or help it said twice a week over said put on

all my clothes now put on all my clothes over n over till I big bigger float floater said I

do it now why do it do it someone puts something in my mouth do it they stuff me do

it I have to do this I got to said have to now do it I find me out do it stuff mouth rag

bone said stuff stuff toy now stuff it do it I do it said stuff do it I do it chew chewie

break now pull it o pull it outta pull now pull pull now pull it outta me what has to go in

hole a hole hole it it one push push now grind n grind grinder round n round do it

break n tear rip it mouth said teeth come out before before before that now what was

did done do it now I actor enactor act it now grind me down said who does this to me

in my mouth now who does me shop n hop shop n hop over break eye in what cork

said to me said cork fork would like a spoon together spoon now jammies on spoon

now push it very cream creamy creamer say mix n bite me now tongue n cut sizzle

on you oh yum tum big tum tom thumb full gook news cram house tight house I use

user this is done then I'm nice n numb happy as as as I sleep now jammies on

paputy paputzia put on slip slipper sleep a daddy dumb little bear big bear I am

goldilocks I fit right in here and here tight as tight n tight as

Not to say or stay not to say or say to me what just to dart face hit some

don't know what now knock out drop

The eating is to stuff a silence now. The mouth is shut. It says nothing. I know

nothing. No comment. Zip. Zips. No. No. No. I am unable to say anything now.

Anything at all. I am unable to speak. I have sewn up my lips. I am unable to write. I

throw my pen away. I throw my exercise book away. I stop my writing process. I buy

a typewriter. I can't think now. I do what I am told to do. I do and say what other

people tell me to. The act of dissociation. Compliance . I do filing. The act of non-

being. Negating the self. Denial. A whitenight, a silence that extends and extends

and extends. I become an automated automatom. Robotnik. Robot. The

mechanical toy. An object. Cordelia, the doll. What a busy little mouth you have. It

says what it is told to say now. Daddy buys me cakes and cakes and cakes. My

little mouth is full of cream. I am a good girl who is doing what. I am told. Eat up your

plate. Eat everything. I take it all in. Open wide now. Here comes the train. Let me

 

 

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in.

Katherine Halmi writes, “In the late 1970's awareness of the frequency of the

symptom of bulimia, both within the anorexia nervosa but without the low body

weight, brought about the subtyping of anorexia nervosa and the clarification of

bulimia nervosa.”176 The whale eats and eats now. The whale can't stop eating now.

It doesn't know what it does and why it eats.

Kim Chernin writes The Hungry Self in 1985. “The eating disorder coincides

with an underlying developmental crisis.”177 Something goes wrong here. It is here

and in the past. Something was filled full or stuffed a cushion now and pressed back

and turned inside out and suppressed. An undoing, a denial No, no no, it didn't

happen like it did. You do not see what you see. I am not me and you are not

reading this. You do not see taking everything in I eat all the books willy nilly lack of

separation sequence punctuation a disrupted language of disrupting I am eating

everything stuffing it down suppression repression stuffen to hit to fuck to numb out I

distort me I am putting all all my clothes all one on top of another more and more

now fat suit for fat they say we buy fat take away way away drink soft fry n fry eat it

push a feel away down not to feel a thing now anna frank goes into hiding hidey hole

they ride bikes and put on all their clothes not to show or tell me not to show or any

emil kraeplin puts pins in me but I don't feel me you are so skinny sucha pinda

people will laugh at me I have to eat I am good girl I do what I'm

The lack of differentiation here. l am stuck at the oral stage. I eat for four

people now. I internalise a family. I have them inside me. I am sacrifice. They eat

me. Introjection, they tell me and talk through me. I swallow it all. I eat little horse

now who eats me. We eat one another. Lack of separation now. Lack of

maturation. I ride a horse backwards. There is a trauma. Invasion through the

mouth. The digestive tract as a highway that is full of mines, during wartimes. The

trauma extends from the mouth to the anus. There is fat, bloating. Mister fat comes

in and out. All this is pushed down and silenced, existing as a gap, a space a

silence. Mister Freud sees all that (but then he changes his mind, he says I have

imagined that this happens).

 

 

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I eat the mother who had abandoned me and left me. My mother, Melanie

Klein tells me that my “ ... desire to suck and scoop out, first directed to the breast,

soon extends to the inside of her body.” My “oral-sadistic phantasies of early

childhood ... form a link between the oral-sucking and oral-biting stages.”178 There

is no autonomy or separation. There is no negotiation here. There is only rage.

Melanie Klein says “the child's aggressive trends against its mother’s body ... in

which its predominant wish is to rob her body of its contents and destroy it.”179

This scares me. I mustn't do it. No! I'll starve myself. William James describes

the “Vision of Quietude of Saint Francis.” “In this state, the soul is like a little child

still at the breast, whose mother ... makes her milk distil into his mouth ... our Lord

desires that our will should be satisfied by sucking the milk which His majesty

pours ... ”180

Lilian Malcove contends that in the life of a child “the experience of learning to

eat is the prototype of the fear of being dismembered and mutilated ... food that he

cuts and eats is endowed with attributes of human life, and can easily be identified

with himself or other persons ... eating is literally a cannibalistic procedure.”181

Eating as theatre. Eating as an enactment. A division is enacted. Starvation

as separation, rejection, withholding, withdrawal and abandonment. I exercise a lot.

Gorging as unquestioning absorption, compliance, alliance, agreement, lack of

selection. I eat and then I sleep. I am the actor and the body is my prop. I am not

my body now. I and my body are not one and the same. I, the body is not that

person. I am not Ania. I am somebody else. A gap is made here. Dissociative

action. A chasm and a break, a split. The body and the self, become separate

actors in my theatre.

Armando Favazza writes about the theatre of the body, the enactment of the

self and the body in “ ... a simple and efficient maneuver of transforming in an ...

internal projection ... psychological problems into concrete, physical ones .... body

becomes both ‘whipping boy’ and solace .... the body and self constantly shift roles

of victim and victimizer, master and slave.”182 The dialectic of the body. The

dialogues of Fritz Pearls. The actor and the enactment. My body is the body of the

 

 

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whale. I get fatter and fatter. I put on all my clothes. One on top of another. I get

bigger and larger and larger. This grows now. This talks to me. This makes me and

writes me. A discursive text. The role-play is enacted here. This is my theatre script

and my play I play. l enact my role here. l treat my body as an enemy that engulfs

me and gets larger and larger. I grow bigger and bigger. I introject now and absorb

other people, their voices, actions and sins. I am the sin eater of sins. I am the

scapegoat. I am cast out ...

I am a cannibal who eats other people and their words that I quote here. I eat

books. I eat all books. I eat dinners. I reject food as rejection. I eat in compliance,

collusion of a group. I accept. But I am not allowed to accept or absorb. I am not

allowed to go to my first communion. Jesus says, “He who feeds on my flesh and

drinks my blood has life eternal and I will raise him up on the last day. For my flesh is

real food, and my blood, real drink. The man who feeds on my flesh and drinks my

blood remains in me, and I, in him.”183 I am left out. I enact the act of

transubstantiation, transformation through eating, absorption. Being, becoming ...

Sigmund Freud writes about the murder of the powerful, primal father. The

sons murder him, eat him and replace him, “they devoured their victim as well as

killing him ... each man acquired a portion of his strength ... a criminal act which was

the beginning of social organization ... ”184 I have to kill the father now. I have to kill

Santa Claus. I have to kill the Russian tsar who wants to marry me but I don't want

to now. I have to kill somebody but murder is not allowed. The sons “prohibited the

eating and the killing of each other.”185 I keep the father alive by eating and eating. I

eat the dead now. I eat my father. I incorporate him. I eat the grandfather Enoch. I

have to get rid of the fat to get rid of him. I have to separate now. I have to take off

my clothes that I have put on me, one on top of another. I have to get rid of this. I

lose weight now. I am the whale that swallowed thirty ships and I have to let me out

of my mouth.

Where is the little horse now? The little horse eats me and I eat little horse

now. We merge together. I have to eat meat now. I dream about animals who eat

me. My body lies in a forest and I watch me as the animals eat me. They eat me

politely, in little bits, like bread.

 

 

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I eat. I refuse to eat. Bulimia is accompanied by anorexia. Armando Favazza

talks about “Cannibalism and self-starvation ... linked poles representing the

opposite sides of revenge-victory.186 ... The construct of cannibalism contains both

feast and famine, chaos and order, evil destruction and beneficial regeneration.”187

Eating as an act of cutting, self-mutilation, caricature. I am not myself. I play a role.

I am an actress. I wear a mask now. I live in a theatre of symbolic action and

enactment. I am ritual and I tell and show now. All the roles of my theatre form

kinaesthetic interstices. They swivel and interchange. I am me and everything and

everybody and not me at all. I am the storyteller of a fairy story. This is my life now.

I am whale as whale as meat whale meat that I won't eat no I won't eat ania no

I will not love ania now how who do you love now you must love ania but I don't now

you must love your body says mister z to me but I don't now she won't feed me or

any I am hungry angry angry hungry henry Hendry hendryk ryk eat me now double

think and double speak I am the double of me what is it now someone speaks me

mister gerry gee ventriloquist I speak through me subject position I am full gook as

gook as egg is egg nogg egg gogg magogg egg cup I don't use it crack to crack egg

singer swallows it to sing raw egg I sing tralalalala open mouth opera luna park I

park open mouth now open up wide and open wide I have tongue to swallow tongue

to eat I eat me up something eats me I take carrot to bed not too loud I only eat

apple I want to be nothing space oh for that floaty feeling now oh for that starve

starveling oh for that shrink shrinking every day smaller I am mister button b button I

get smaller and smaller I am your grandmother but I wouldn't eat so I got younger

and younger and smaller every day only eat apple I want to be nothing exclude out

door out you go and out go out now work makes me free I starve now it makes my

head heady light as light and bright high as high I am thin whale I starve whale and

then I grow down or up when do I begin right from the start I know how to make my

mood good everything is alright now don't eat or eat or eat or est eat what to eat

skim cheese slim cheese slim jim slim mister slimmer and slimmer I lose words now

none left can't or any any any or what now can't cannot what I exist ex exclude rest

only tiny words little words none left oh oh oh oh I die only death little death oh oh

oh now close mouth now only hush shush nothing tell me nothing I know nothing I

have nothing to do with this or me or any any body none at all nothing zilch nothing

 

 

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zzzzzzzzz none zed zee zee zzzzzzzzzz then I am dead oh I am dead can you not

see I am dead says monsieur valdemar then I die I run into my burning building then

I and then I die I die I am dead I act it the I die and then I live again I eat it I eat and I

eat it up I eat to fill full fuller and full as a full bag now tummy tum tum I big tum in

tum I can't stand up now have to lie down I sleep now lots I can't wake up now sleep

and sleep and then I get up now and I don't know what I did or what I said I was

drunk with that I get drunk on that said you get high on food I get high now high so

as high as high he asks any needles now I eat all n alii take it all in please come in

everybody in first in best dressed now I don't pick and choose I am told to eat it up

now that’s cookie you eat me I am here for everybody I cook dinners woman get

cookie cooking and I eat I have to eat again all hungry mouth hungry gimme gimme

this makes me put up with this knocks me this does me a hit so I won't hurt or any no

feels now just I take it all in and then starve oh what have I done and then twice a

week at least that at last that easy gnaw and chew and eat my hat n that I am told to

open my mouth wide open sesame open wide now and wider than that huge big

mouth now red tongue comes out kiss kiss I buy watermelon big lips cucumber

salad my chocolate heart for gingerman I am feed mumma big mumma I put apron

strings they eat me all up but I cook me now my meaty leg I eat me over n over put

my foot in my mouth put my mouth in my mouth grind teeth meat grinder put my

finger cut finger topor stupor I eat much now fall over said what a busy little mouth I

have cream in my toothpaste cream in my cheese smiles I am always nice n cheery

full of humour big lady lardy laughs ha ha ha ha ha ha ha dee ha never think about I

say what they want me to say now I don't figure funny fat lady bake me cake me

decorate me nice and plump I am cushion now stick a pin I don't feel me or any body

fat fattie who is this me mother of the bride big dress dresser ripper zipper rips now

bra breaks bang I explode now I live to eat neat I don't think a thing in a swoon now

in a daze craze in a numb dumb cow just placid wifey yes yes yes'm now I bring tea I

scone I prepare I hop shop n carry I wash wash now who is this that says here I do

what I am told to do you be tole now I told to open wide now here comes train here

come car here comes crane to lift me this little piggy goes to market this little piggy

goes little pig comes out now what is it a lolly lollipop lolly I have to suck now I am

told to put something in my mouth I better I better I am told now do it si so I do it tak

tak tak yes yes yes yes I agree I sign I put me in I am in now I get into I go in now I

am train train and I enter choo choo choo bar pies blood pie I go in and out and

 

 

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around and around about and around circle round circle now in I come I am mister

pig I do me here I pork me schweinerei

Emil Kraeplin, the nineteenth century psychiatrist who names schizophrenia

“Dementia Preacox”, weighs and measures his patients. He concludes that their

weight shows great variation which coincides with their disturbance. Weight as a

form of madness. The mad body loses its outline, its contours and clarity of

formation. The body becomes a blob, a lump or the body withers, diminishes and

becomes a skeleton. The inner state is manifested in the extreme theatre here. The

dancers wear fat suits. But I don't need this now. I get fat by writing this. I eat my

words. The definition of the body of the bodybuilder is lost by eating just one piece

of chocolate. Eat just one little piece of cake – go on eat it! The command, the

bonhomie, the joy club, the regret, the compulsion now, my hobby, my cigarette. I

put something in my mouth. I am told to put something in my mouth.

The whale ate thirty ships and more. Swallowed me. I am Jonah. I swallow

whale now – the. I slurr words. I swallow me inside me. I get inside me completely.

The whale (Walwitz) ate everything and everybody. Lack of discrimination now.

Higgeldy, piggledy. There is no choice made, no specificity, no delineation, no

exclusion, no selection, no adjudication, no segregation, no separation is made. I

am me and everybody. I am everything around me. I am the whole, wide world now.

The undifferentiated view of the infant now. I am the oral stage. I am the mouth that

opens and swallows. I have no teeth. I absorb everybody. I state other people's

words. I incorporate their ideas. I absorb that which happens to me in my pink mouth

now. I incorporate and introject the other, another who does this to me.

I feel scared to write this, now. I put everything inside me. I don't know what is

inside me or outside me or any limits. Limmits is a diet meal, meant to limit food

intake in the 60s, when I get fat. I am a fat author. The fat is here. It sizzles and

splutters. I chew it. Yum. I swallow it down. I accept everything that is done. I don't

complain. I laugh a lot. I do what I am told. I am plum. I am numb. I am dumb.

The whale is told now that she ate thirty ships. Now I know what I did. Now I

know what was done. She opens her mouth and thirty ships sail out of me. I open

 

 

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my mouth now so that I can come out through my mouth. I clean my teeth. Little

horse tells people to get out of houses in a city they built on top of my head. He

tells them to get out of my head where they sat. They stop building roads and

bridges that hurt so bad that I bled. They stop ploughing fields in my sides. They

stop digging holes in me now. Jonah, I come out. I get out. Little horse, I open my

mouth. At last, I open me out. Mister tongue, I stand on my balcony of teeth. I wave

to crowds now. Here I am. I was hid, I was buried underground. Now I live. Here I

am and here I am. Here.

The whale tells the dolphins to find me. They find the gold ring of princess

Ania. They find me at the bottom of the sea. I find me out. Now I see. I know what I

do to me. I promise I will never ever. I promise Naomi, Belinda, Shanti, Simone and

Franca. It is over. It is all over. At last it is over. Now. All over. Is it over? Because I

used to love her, but it's all over now.

The whale is free now. It asks the dolphins to find the ring for me. It's a gold

ring out of gold that is thrown out of my window by a girl thief who is looking for

her grandmother. She wears a red cap. The whale finds me. The police find her

downstairs. They handcuff me. I am not allowed to do what I do ... But I do it again

here. I promise not to do it, but I do it. I will stop it.

The Russian tsar has my gold ring now. He wants to marry. He wants to

marry me now. He asks me whether I would like a ring now. I don't know what to

say. He says that he will die if I say no. But I say no. You are an old man. I am

fifteen years old. I am a little girl. People will laugh at me. They will say that I

marry grandfather. The tsar says I will kill them if they laugh at me. He is ready.

But I say I am young and beautiful now. I am truly lovely. You are ugly. But the

tsar says he will dye his hair and beard. I will dress up now. You will like me. I

will only like me when you become young and pretty. I better change me. I better

change now. I am sick of being a little old lady.

She tells me what to. In order to turn into a handsome young man I have to

arrange big pails of water, water basins, big saucepans, vats and place them over

fire. Jump into them next, one after another and then I'll be who I want to be. Then

 

 

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I'll turn into who I really. Then I'll be who I you want me to be. Any way you want

me. First vat will be cold water, second vat boiling water now, third vat boil milk

milky. One, two, three now. From one to another. Then I will become young and

handsome now. Then I will turn younger and younger and younger. I will become

pretty. I will be how I really.

The Russian tsar wants to marry the beautiful princess but she won't marry

him. Not at all. No. But she tells him that, she tells him what to do now. She tells

me. She tells the tsar to do what he must do. Call all the servants now. Tell them

that at dawn, they have to fill three vats. One with cold water, the other with boiling

water. The third will be filled with boiling milk now. Make a fire under two vats now.

You will have to jump into boiling milk first then into boiling water then into cold

water at last to cool down. You have to do this now to be young and handsome.

You have to transform into and into and into a young man now. You have to do

this so that I will marry you. You have to do this to make yourself young again.

She tells the old Russian tsar what he has to do and he wants to. I tell this now.

The tsar calls me. He calls to me now. He tells me that I HAVE TO DO THIS

FOR HIM. He tells that I will have to stand in for him. I will have to. That I must now.

I am the double Doppleganger. I am the double, body double now. I stand in for

another. The potential Ania. The somebody I want to become now. I will turn into

me. I will be who I want to be. I represent the tsar. I represent Ania. I represent

Vanya. I am all the characters of my story. I am the vat master. I am the fire. I am

the water, milk and boiling water now. I have to go through with this now.

He tells me what I have to do now. If I don't do it, he will have me tortured and

torn into tiny pieces now. Bits and pieces. I will be tortured, drawn and quartered. I

cry and cry now. What can I do? What am I supposed to do? I cry and little horse

comes over. Little horse now. Thank you so much. Thank you very much. I will help

you now. You should not have picked up the firebird feather. You should not have

done this. I should have never ever. I should have not picked up the pen but I did.

Look at the mess I'm in now. I transfer from one to another. They want transcripts

now. They don't know what I do. They don't understand me now. They don't want

ideas. They want patterns. We want to know exactly how it is done. I will tell you

 

 

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tales and tall tales now. I will give you outlines of my body. I will tell you where to go

and how to travel. Little horse tells me not to worry. Just go through with this. Just let

this happen. Just let this happen to me now. Just let it be now. Just let me be.

How will I survive. How will I survive this? I don't know really. The little horse

says all you have to do is call me. When you are ready. When you are about to

jump in, call for me. I will come and waggle my tail. Say you want to say goodbye to

me. Tell him that. God is with you now. God is with me. Hospody. God help me.

Little horse helps me now. Call for me. I will come over. I will neigh and neigh and

waggle my tail. That is a sign that you can jump into three vats now. One after

another. Jump now. I will have to jump and I jump .I jump in now. I am a jumper and

I jump over. I jump.

I jump now oh jump me I jump over bouncy bounce now I don't know where I

fall trampoline bounce my feet over turn over head way over n over forward roll back

roll roll roll over how much money have you got I steal pockets I turn inside out I am

no skin rabbit pop ears I just one one on my way to become says who turns me I

turn roll rolls Royce rolls now I roller roll roll carpets in and fly streets over in taxis

that come in cinema I am just what have I do I stand head stand now what do I do

now you just hug me now said mirror who breaks me I enter mirror back in back

jean cocteau I transform and transfer glove in hand take it out now smooth me I

have no fear I have to leap now into dark way water I have to leap in cold now I dip

toe now what do I have to do to cross over said what ceiling falls on me rolls what

rolls and falls now what fall falls I leap into water mouth now cleans me out said

temperature what sails way water mouth now bubble bubble said pulls out I am

pulled by ears and hair what said my horse to me I ride now I leap into what cold

and then I come out into boils what boils water bobble booble and like bubble soap

this hurts and doesn't hurt now just let I accept it can't be any other it can't be any

other than it is it is what I do now it can't be any any any but thus this only only only

now I travel bubble whisk it cooks me and cooks me I am cook cookie yet I live I go

to moons rolls eyes I leap into white milky burns burning what it is like white and

burns me burns unit but I am whole and live fire eater now fire walker on hot coals I

am still here no matter I go through now one vat and that and the other one vat and

that and the other

 

 

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I jump into cold water and boiling milk now and boiling water, one after

another. I survive this now. I'm still alive now. And I live now. I come out and I am

somebody else altogether. I come out now and I climb out now, looking most

handsome, grand, great, wonderful, absolutely gorgeous. This the way it happens

to me. That is the way it happens to be. All know how good it can be. Now I know to

me. Now I know how I really. I know about it all along but I don't want to do it but

now I do it. I can finish now. I come to the end of my story. There is the beginning,

the middle and the end. Three parts now. l become who I am, who I want to be, who

I should be, who I was all along except I didn't know it. I didn't realise it. I didn't want

to know me. I come out young and beautiful. I come out. The best now. I come out

clean and sharp and lovely.

Tsar sees me do it. He wants to do the same. He is jealous. He wants to be so

handsome now. He leaps in. He takes his clothes off and he leaps in. Right in deep.

Deep down. He leaps into three vats now: cold water, boiling water and boiling milk.

The tsar boils and the tsar boils over and the tsar boils now. The tsar dies. The evil

papa dies now. The evil king dies. The evil me dies. All that is dark and evil dies

down. Dies. Boils alive now. Boils down. All that goes away now. It is gone and

gone. I come out of a trance. I wake up now. I am really here.

I am evil old tsar and I leap now. I want to be like Ania. I like to do funny things

to Ania. I am evil. I ring her in the middle of the night. I ring and ring now then I run

away. That is not me. I pretend I don't do it but I do it. I like to disrupt her and annoy

her and cross her and distort her and upset her. Ha ha ha! I hate her. I leap into a

vat. I leap into cold water. I want to get younger .I get out wet. Wet black beard now.

I get out now. I leap into boiling water now boil water oh dear heat and hot now I am

in hot milk I drown now .I boil over. I can't swim I can't go on! I am an an

introjection now. I have no life to live. I am not good to anybody. I don't want to do

this anymore. I will kill myself! I die now. I drown me can't breathe now blob blob hot

milk in boil bubble bobble. I boil away to nothing at all. I die. And I am dead. Can't

you see that I am dead!

All the introjections die now – the evil sister, the professor idiot professor who

 

 

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is an idiot, the nasty teacher, the stupid doctor dee who is a dunce now, all those

people that inhabit me and disrupt me and distort me and torture me and speak with

my voice now and speak through me and bend me and hell me and torture me, the

confused office lady, the nasty cleaner, the duster lady, the silly silly me, taking it all

in as I eat them up but I get rid of them now. I throw them up and out. Out you get

now. Out you go. I yell get out! Get out! They go out now. The tiny people in my

radio. The king of the ants comes out now and salutes me. Long live Ania! Vivat! Sto

lat. May I live 100 years. I want to go on now. I feel like that.

The tsar dies and is gone and dead and gone and a long time ago and dead

and gone from me now. The princess asks me if I want to marry. I am handsome

Ivan and I marry me. I marry. I marry princess now. I get married. At last. Finally.

Everybody salutes me. Vivat! Long live! Hurrah! I am the new king of my kingdom

now. The tsar is dead – Long live the tsar! I am the newly crowned tsar and star. I

am the emperor. I become the Empress Ekaterina. Katherine the Great, the

Empress of Russia. I am at my wedding where I drink my health now. I marry and

marry and marry me. I drink wine and champagne and I drink beer. Not a drop goes

past my whisker. Who am I now?

I arrive at a wedding in Portarlington, officiated by Sean Whelan, an ex-

student who is a marriage celebrant and a writer. The wedding is held near the

sea, between white flags, on green lawn.

Everybody waits and cheers as the newlyweds descend down a green hill near

the Grand Hotel. The wedding of Tom and Laura. She wears a grey tulle dress and a

headdress of flowers. He wears shorts and a jacket. They met at the RMIT

Professional Writing course. They are in love and their attendants carry huge paper

hearts.

Carl Jung writes about “the mystic marriage ... that plays such an important

part in alchemy ... the term ... employed for it ... conjunctio ... chemical combination

... the substances or ‘bodies’ to be combined ... together.” 188 The different personae

reappear and eliminate one, the two that are left marry one another. I get married

now. The self appears united, integrated, in alliance, in the merging of the bodies

“drawn together by ‘affinity’”. The happy end appears here .... “unconscious contents

 

 

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... projected upon persons and situations ... can ultimately be integrated back into

the individual once he has recognized their subjective origin ... ” 189 I become one

and only one character now having taken off all the clothes I have previously piled

on top of me. I take off the mask now. I am just me or am I?

Hey ho the witch is dead! The wicked witch is dead! The Russian tsar is

dead! The king is dead and so is grandfather Enoch. The father is dead. He boils

away and turns into foam, sea foam and soap. They all die and leave me alone.

They are all gone. There is the happy end. The end. But I don't end now. I am the

product of all that. I am the end and not the end. This never ends now. But it will

end soon and when? You tell me that.

How do I read this? How to read this now? How do you read this? I read this

over and over. This grows and grows and becomes fiction now. I make this up. I

invent somebody. This is not me or mine. I am a character in my text. I make up

Ania. I fabricate a case history. I play now. I play in play therapy with Melanie Klein

who writes about me. She writes the story of “A child who couldn't sleep”. I can't

sleep now. The roles are malleable and they reverse and alter. “Erna used ... to play

at being mother. I was the child and one of my greatest faults was thumb-sucking.

The first thing I was supposed to put in my mouth was an engine. She had already

much admired its gilded lamps, saying ‘They're so lovely all red and burning’, and at

the same time putting them in her mouth and sucking them. The engine represented

her mother's breast and her father's penis.”190

I introject all the characters now. Then I get rid of them. I get rid of the

Russian tsar, the evil tsar that enslaves me. I marry the victim Vanya. I love Vanya

now. The introjected evil king, the Russian tsar, the evil father, the evil sister, who

is part of me boils away now in three vats of cold water, boiling water and boiling

milk now. He is only vapour and steam and is gone altogether. I know what I do

now. I keep the little horse who I love and assimilate and accept as my own and me

and what I want to be, my helper and guide, the one who helps me and guides me

and leads me. I keep Ania, who is me, now truly and really.

Freud tells me “ ... about the slow demolition of the hostile super-ego”,191 .... “a

 

 

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liberation of excessive qualities of the destructive instinct turned inwards”. Frederick

Perls talks about introjection: “An introject ... consists of material – a way of acting

and feeling ... that you have taken into your system of behaviour, but you have not

assimilated to make it a genuine part of your organism. You took it on the basis of a

forced (and therefore pseudo) identification, so that even though you will now resist

its dislodgement as it were something precious, it is in fact a foreign body.”192 I have

all these people in me and I have to kill them. I have to get rid of them now. “The ‘I’

that is composed of introjects does not function spontaneously for it is made up of

concepts about the self – duties, standards and views ... imposed from the

outside.”193 I am Judge Schreiber and I have to kill my father.

Now I can be spontaneous and improvise freely. Words flow out of me. “Other

people have to work hard but you can just do things,” she said, the nasty teacher. I

have to get the nasty teacher out of me. She licks her lips. She hates me. I am

allowed to feel now. The evil tsar who had me in the stable is gone and dead now.

Nothing is left of that. I can make things up as I go along. Free-form now. This is the

way to make money. I am rich. I can write now. My body is free to feel now, to

construct emotive states. Fritz Perls says that “in an emotional situation, the emotion

is not felt until one accepts the corresponding bodily behaviour, it is when one

clenches one’s fist that one begins to feel anger.”194 I am angry now. I focus this. I

will use this now. I write anger. Free and easy and breezy. This flows out of me. I

can make things up. I will make up words as I perform. I make up a story. Words

come out of my mouth. This is doing me now. I can't stop this. The removal of

repression. The removal of suppression. The removal of resistance. There is no

resistance now. There is no denial. There is a situation of free-fall that leads to

floatation and then descent and a soft, smooth landing. My body relaxes now. I eat

what I need to eat and no more than that. The body is no longer the field of the story

of conflict. I leave the stable. I gallop out. The evil tsar is gone now. I am free of the

tsar. I don't have to wear the red coat backwards. I am easy.

IIham Oilman writes about psychoanalysis as “making conscious the

unconscious, removing repressions, filling in the gaps in the memory .... The

patient having been ... cured, has really become a different person ... that is, he

has become his best self, what he would have been under the most favourable

 

 

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conditions.”195 This what I do now. I am that which I was meant to be and become.

I have done exactly what I planned and wanted to do here. Jung writes about

theatre “as an institution for working out private complexes in public.” I do this for

the reader. I do this for you now. Carl says that “the enjoyment of tragedy lies in

the thrilling yet satisfying feeling that what is happening to somebody else may

very well happen to you.”196 This is happening to me, you and everybody.

This story will happen to me again and has done so already and is happening

to me now, right now. “Freud ... believed that past times exists psychologically ... as

superimposed buried cities ... the various pasts and the present interpenetrate one

another, occupying the same space and having additional relations to those of

temporal succession.”197 I will think of this again. I will forget this and then

remember. The process of analysis never ends.

The interlacing cities of the past return now and go away again. I construct my

future in positive psychology. I meditate and live in the present. When I write this

and after I write this. The past and the future is another city and another city. The

past disappears in Williamstown. The old house of Maryanne is torn down, removed

and a sports stadium is built where there was a beautiful green foreshore. The past

is gone and then it returns and then goes away again. It exists in a parallel universe

where I can exit and enter.

Can the king come back now? Can the Russian Tsar be revived? Can the

princess divorce me (causing disassociation)? Can Anya Vanya collapse now

(having no supervisor or analyst)? Can I survive without a mother? Can I become a

doctor? Will I have to start at the start? Will it all begin again like the start of my

tale?

Non, non, non, mille fois non. Mais non, mon vieux! No, no, no, a thousand

times no. No, never ever. The past has been deconstructed. I wash my mouth out

with soap. My mouth is clean now. I brush my teeth and say clear words. And yet I

dream about a dirty, unshaven, smelly man who leaps out of the kitchen cupboard

brandishing a knife, yelling: I'II kill you! He puts his dirty feet on the table where I eat.

I run to call the police. The subject in process continues to compose herself in

 

 

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language. The Polish ambassador does not contact me now. The past becomes

distant. Everything moves away now. I've gotta go. I have a train to catch. I get on a

train and get in and ride away. Then I realise that I am drunk and unable to do my

job as an electrician. I have to come back and I come back to finish this. The “Reality

Principle” enters now. I am in the real world of exigency and limitation. I am no

longer Her Majesty, the baby. I change now. I mature. I am old now. I am your

grandmother, but I won't eat so I get younger and younger everyday. I come back

and I come back. I regress now. I am a little girl again and a child. I am six years old.

I read Konik Garbusek. I love my teacher, my significant other. I live concurrently on

all the different levels and areas and times in the eternal presence of my psyche.

Peter said now said it’s not that you love somebody, it's when you love

everything, everything, everything altogether. Little horse comes out now and says

let us write some more now. Let's live it up. I love my life now. I love me. I love this. I

love doing this now. I love writing this. Yes, I do. I love this. I love it. I love it. I love it.

I love you. What is the subject position now? Where is the subject? Who is the

subject here? I am speaking through your mouth.

Konrad Lorenz writes about imprinting. I get used to this and this becomes how

I live now. I am the father of little ducklings and they walk behind me because I hatch

them. I remove the imprint now. I am not your father now. I can change my

response. I can change me. I can shift and I can transfer. I can go elsewhere. I can

do what I like to do now. Booo! Nobody looks over my shoulder. Nobody tells me

what to do. It is time to go home. It is time to leave now. I set the time now because I

have a watch and I read a watch and I know how to. The setting up of a perimeter.

Self-rule now. I am my supervisor. I leave the dirty stable of the Russian tsar and

star. I stop being the slave slaver. I alter. I change the dialectic now. I am both slave

and the master. I am my master. I am head master. I sing “Amazing Grace”. Yes.

Pavlov's dogs stop salivating now when I change their behaviour. The bell

gets removed now. The reward (of collusion, non-feeling, abatement, repression) is

removed. Skinner changes my behaviour. I alter. I am sensate, cognizant, aware.

“Sat chit ananda”, says Joseph Campbell. I achieve the pinnacle of my career and

my character. I am the heroine here. Dr. Brendan O'Conner at St. Vincent's

Hospital writes “The patient presents as alert and orientated.” I say, it's all over.

 

 

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Epilogue

I am Sigmund Freud and I write “The case of Ania”. I put my beard on me now. I

make notes. I am a famous writer. I dream about Freud. He is young, tall and

handsome now and wears a starched white shirtfront with a bow tie. He kisses me

on the cheek and says, “It is all over now. Now is the time to fall in love.” I fall in

love now. I fall in love with the doctor. I establish transference. It is all “as if”, as if

but in fact it is the real thing. He is all wise and wonderful. I love a daddy. I am

Sylvia. It is a dangerous position and the “Dangerous Method” now. I am Dora and I

am totally misunderstood. He keeps on smoking. He is imperious. His thoughts are

over-inclusive as a result of a cocaine addiction. He takes morphine. He fails me

and denies me and falls asleep and doesn't listen to me. He sits behind me when I

lie on the couch and he doesn't speak. I speak. I write my self-analysis here. I am

the doctor now but I like to read him. I like to read his writing. I like his ideas now. I

go to his museum. I lie on his couch. I sit in his chair. I write with his pen (the

phallus). I have one now. I am Sigmund Freud and I am the grand hysteric. The

only reason I write is to analyse me. I am the mad doctor who is mad now. I resolve

everything through writing, by writing, in writing, in speaking and speaking out

aloud, by free association, by images in my mind; my dreams and daydreams. I

record me and analyse me. I understand me. I write by displacement and

condensation. I live in a dream. I read my text as a rebus. I am Emma Eckstein. He

cuts my nose. He hurts me. He listens to me and my trauma and then he negates

me. He says that I imagine it all. I make up everything to me. I don't know how to

use this. I run out of the library.

I go to the theatre now. I see my play inside me. I am the actor now. James

Clayden performs “OperettaThird Person”. Seven characters and three

musicians. It is a Schönberg sonata; atonal, dischordant, disharmony now. Every

actor does an action unconnected to another – disconnected from the plot and

every other actor now. This is the theatre of psychoanalysis now. All ideas are

semi-coherent and loosely related and outrageous in their inception. There is

dark humour here. And I laugh (and I cry now). It is an atonal opera. They sing

but one cannot distinguish the plot or the words yet there is a loose connection of

space, position, intention and outcome. This art and a spectacle here. I wear a

 

 

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beard now. I improvise. Words come out of my mind now. I flow out. The tall

blonde woman in a red dress writhes in love agony on the floor. An actor draws

chalk circles on the blackboard and throws books at the wall and tears at their

pages. James wears a trenchcoat and a bald head and plays the piano

accordion. Two actors upend a table. The unstable ideas of psychoanalysis vie

with one another and interrelate loosely, loosely or not at all. The logos, the

phallus, the penis is rude and crude here, yet it stars. The woman actor is mad

and is treated by a bearded doctor. Where do I fit in here?

I am Carl Jung and I am dictated to by a spirit. I listen and write. I

channel an old wise man. I do drawings. I am Adolf Woofli in the asylum in

Berne. I am the Emperor of the Railway. I talk to my saucepans in Bollingen. I

speak from fairytales. I am Ania Anima Animus. My chairs speak to me.

Everything opens up now. Everything is ah shared and possible. I improvise

now. Words come out of my mouth. I am inside my dreams now and in my sleepy

sleep now. I am irresponsible, driven, given, mired, admired. I can't help myself now. I

do what I feel like doing. This leads me on now. I am in Beechworth, on the far farm,

in the walnut farm of a Professor Walnuts. I listen to Wagner. I am melancholy. The

music swells and rises now. I am Earlking and Erlkönig. He says to me, Come to me

my child. He speaks German to me. I put this away and it never goes away. I am

Caspar Friedrich and Schopenhauer.

I am all that is beautiful and glorious and wonderful. I am false now and I am

lying. I am sentimental now. I am in love and I am unfaithful yet it is so pleasant to

enter an irrational state. I enter the flow now. A confluence and prescience. All that

is meant to happen happens now. I can feel it in my finger.

I am Jacques Lacan. I look in my mirror. I see me ... Yes, this is me. My

unconscious structured like my story. I am spoken and I speak. I am spoken here. I

evoke the Name of the Father (my mad father?). I talk in riddles now and I am playful

and malicious. I speak and I am spoken here. Malicieux, malicieuse. I reverse

everything now. I take me back to nothing at all, to a lack of a lack, to a little woman

now. The little horse is my objet a – a result of castration, a disappointment, trauma.

 

 

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I search for it and can't find it and find it here. At last, I find it. I am the teddy bear of

Jean-Paul Gaultier, with tiny paper breasts, painted lipstick lips and drawn on

eyebrows now. I am a deflection, a transposition now. I teach now, my teaching. I

write a lecture, “My teaching is in fact, simply language ... ”198 I am the master of

myself. I am inventing a language langue. I cut my tongue.

I am Luce Irigaray that replies now that not so, not that and not that and not like

that, not me, not like that. I am non-linear now. I multiply and multiply. Lady, I am a

lady, always a lady lady. Lady lardy. Don't forget me. The female subject that is me

and isn't me. And is me. Yes, is me. It doesn't matter to me. I feel me. I am made

like this. “She doesn't know where she is".199 I am made out of this. This allows me

to speak. I talk to a lady. I write to Marion. This is my letter to Marion. Dear Marion. I

am a lady, lady. I am a lady with a lady. I am a lady to a lady. I understand a lady

now. At last I understand me.

I have to read this. I have to live this. This is it now. This what I have learned. I

take what I want and what I need. I talk to me and talk to somebody. I jump into a

vat and a cauldron. I take bits and pieces wherever I find me. This helps me and

pulls me along. I ride my horse. I put my cap on my cap. I put my head on my head.

I take what I want. What I want. I select. I differentiate. I choose and pick me. I

accept my story. I can live. I am in charge. I am the writer, actor and director now. I

am the supervisor. I am the doctor.

 

 

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                                                                                                                         1 P. Jerszlow, Konik Garbosek, Poznan, Poland: Oficyna Wydawnicza, 2010. 2 A. Nettlebeck, in The Space between: Australian Women Writing Fictocriticism, eds. A. Nettlebeck & 2 A. Nettlebeck, in The Space between: Australian Women Writing Fictocriticism, eds. A. Nettlebeck & H. Kerr, Nedlands, WA: University of Western Australia Press, 1998, p. 1. 3  A.  Holland,  dir.  Total  Eclipse,  film,  Written  by  C.  Hampton,  Fineline  Features,  UK,  France,  Belgium,  Italy,  USA,  1995.    4 S. Tuber, Attachment, Play and Authenticity: A Winnecott Primer, Lanham, Maryland & Plymouth, UK: Jason Aronson, 2008, p. 63. 5 S. Freud, “The Uncanny”, The History of Infantile Neurosis and Other Works, The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, Vol. 17, trans. J. Strachey, London: Hogarth Press, 1966 [1914], p. 220. 6, p. 224. 7 A. Gibbs, “Writing and the Flesh of Others” in Australian Feminist Studies, 18: 42, (2003): pp. 309-310. 8 A. Walwicz, “No, No, No, The Reluctant Debutante”, in Meanjin 56: 2 (1997): p. 335. 9 J. Frame, Faces in the Water London: The Women’s Press, 1985 [1982]. 10 Moreno, Jacob Levy, Psychodrama New York: Beacon House Inc., 1972, p.31. 11 C. Hunt “Therapeutic Effects of Writing Fictional Autobiography” in Life Writing 7:3 (2010): p. 231. DOI: 10.1080/14484528.2010.514142. Accessed 21 April, 2013 12 Ibid, p. 232. 13 Ibid, p. 233. 14 P. Magee, “The Single Greatest Cause of Domestic Housefires: On the Hole in Hegel’s Aesthetics”, in New Writing: The International Journal for the Practice & Theory of Creative Writing 1: 1 (May 2004): p. 57. 15 Rumi, Selected Poems London, UK: Penguin Classics, 1995, p.2. 16 C.G. Jung cit. R. S. Steele, Freud & Jung, London: Routledge & Kegan, London, 1982, p. 7. 17 C. G. Jung, “Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious” in The Collected Works of C.G. Jung Vol. 9, London, UK: Routledge & Kegan 1959, p. 261. 18 K. Schwitters, cit. I. Schultz, Kurt Schwitters Colour & Collage, The Menil Collection, New Haven: Yale University Press, 2010, p. 46. 19 H. Arp, Three Painter Poets: Arp /Schwitters / Klee – Selected Poems, Harmondsworth, Middlesex, UK: Penguin, 1974, p. 51. 20 K. Schwitters, in Dada – Art & Anti-Art, ed. H. Richter, New York: Harry N. Abrams Inc. Publishers, 1965, p. 141. 21 S. Freud cit. I. Oilman, Freud and the Mind, Oxford, UK: Basil and Blackwell, 1984, p.14. 22 M. Payne, Narrative Therapy, London, UK: Sage Publications, 2006, p.1. 23 D. Langley, An Introduction to Dramatherapy, London: Sage Publications, 2006, p. 5. 24 P. Smith, “Shaman Doo-Wop” in Patti Smith Complete 1975-2006 New York: Harper-Perennial, 2006, p. 32. 25 A. Gibbs, “Writing and the Flesh of Others”, in Australian Feminist Studies, 18: 42 (2003): p. 311. 26 R.P.S. Berg, The Essential Zohar, The Source of Kabbalistic Wisdom, ed. R. P.S. Berg, New York: Belltower Books, 2002, p. 10. 27 Bouzereau L., Dir. Polanski: A Film Memoir, Italy: Casanova Multimedia, 2012. 28 C.G. Jung The Collected Works of C. G. Jung: The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, Part 1, Vol. 9, London: Routledge & Kegan, 1959, pp. 8-9. 29 C.G. Jung, “The Psychology of the Child Archetype”, The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, in The Collected Works of C. G. Jung, trans. G. Adler & R.F.C. Hull, London: Routledge & Kegan, 1959 [1951], p. 173. 30 C.G. Jung, “The Phenomenology of the Spirit in Fairytale: Self-Representation of the Spirit in Dream” in The Collected Works of C.G. Jung: The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, London: Routledge and Kegan, 1959 [1948], p.9.  

 

 

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                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             31 H. Richter cit. in M. Malone, Chance Aesthetics, Mildred Lane Kemper Art Museum, St Louis: University of Chicago Press, 2000, p. 73. 32 P. Soupault, “Magnetic Fields”, cit. Chance Aesthetics, p. 28. 33 P. Magee, op. cit., p. 64. 34 H. Smith, “The: fictocriticism, performativity, technology”, Textual Practice, Routledge 23: 6 (2009): p. 1008. 35 K. Schwitters, cit. Isabel Schultz, Kurt Schwitters: Colour & Collage, The Menil Collection, New Haven: Yale University Press, 2010, p 40. 36 Gareth Griffiths, in H. Kerr and A. Nettlebeck, eds, The Space Between: Australian Women Writing Fictocriticism, Nedlands, W A : University of Western Australia Press, 1998, p. 8. 37 Patricia Fedkiw cit. Sharon Willis, Marguerite Duras: Writing on the Body Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1987, p. 146. 38 M. Gliserman, Psychoanalysis and the Body of the Text, Gainsville, USA: University of Florida Press, 2001, p. 1. 39 J. Lacan, The Four Fundamental Concepts of Psychoanalysis, London, UK: Karnac Books, 2004, pp. 29-30. 40 A. Freud, “The Ego and the Mechanism of Defence”, in Anna Freud, The International Psychoanalytical Library, ed. Ernest Jones; trans. Cecil Baines, London: Hogarth Press, 1948, p. 47. 41 D.P. Slattery, The Wounded Body: Remembering the Markings of the Flesh, Albany, NY: State University of New York, 2000, p. 195. 42 P. Janet, cit. S. Freud, Early Psycho-analytical Publications: the Neuro-Psychoses of Defence, The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, Vol. 3: On Sexuality, [1894], p. 41. 43 S. Freud, “The Infantile Genital Organisation: an Interpolation into the Theory of Sexuality”, On Sexuality, The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, Vol. 7, trans. James Strachey, London: Hogarth Press, 1966 [1923], p. 198. 44 P. Fedkiw, cit. S. Willis, Marguerite Duras: Writing on the Body Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1987, p. 148. 45 J. Rose, “Female Sexuality”, in Jacques Lacan and the École Freudienne, eds. J. Mitchell & J. Rose; trans. J. Rose, London: Macmillan Press, 1987, p. 31. 46 Ibid, p. 32. 47 D. Baka, Sigmund Freud and the Jewish Mystical Tradition, Boston, USA: Beacon Press, p. 78. 48 J. Lacan, The Language of the Self, Baltimore, USA: John Hopkins Press, 1968, p. 64. 49 J. Rose, “Female Sexuality”, p. 46. 50 J. Lacan, The Language of the Self, p. 145. 51 Ibid, p. 285. 52 Ibid, p. 98. 53 J. Lacan, The Four Fundamental Concepts of Psychoanalysis, p. 69. 54 Ibid, p. 243. 55 A. Miller, The Drama of Being a Child, London: Virago, 1987, p. 56. 56 Ibid, p. 58. 57 Ibid, p. 59. 58 G.L. Landreth, Play Therapy: the Art of Relationship, New York: Routledge, 2012, p. 16. 59 B. Szmigielska, Children’s Dreams, New York: Psychology Research Progress Series, Nova Science Publishers Inc., 2010, p. 33. 60 Ibid, p. 59. 61 Ibid, p. 60. 62 Ibid, p. 144. 63 Ibid, p. 138. 64 Ibid, p. 149. 65 Ibid, p. 149. 66 Ibid, p. 150. 67 Ibid, p. 163. 68 S. Cohen, States of Denial: Knowing about Atrocities and Suffering, Cambridge, UK: Polity Press, 2001, p. 84. 69 Ibid, p. 86. 70 Ibid, p. 123, 71 Ibid, p. 163.  

 

 

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                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             72 M. Borch-Jacobsen & S. Shamdasani, The Freud Files: An Enquiry into the History of Psychoanalysis, Cambridge, UK: Cambridge Press, 2013, p. 247. 73 Ibid, p.246. 74 Ibid, p. 278. 75 Ibid, p. 247. 76 Ibid, p. 205. 77 Ibid, p. 206. 78 S. Freud, Letter 67, 14th August 1897, Extract from Fliess Papers, The Standard Edition, Vol. 1, p. 259. 79 S. Freud, “Childhood Memories and Screen Memories”, The Standard Edition, Vol. 6, [1901], p. 43. 80 S. Freud, “Hysteria”, The Standard Edition, Vol. 1, [1888], p. 44. 81 S. Freud, “On the Theory of Hysterical Attacks”, Pre-psycho-analytical Publications and Unpublished Drafts (1886-1899), The Standard Edition, Vol. 1, [1892], p. 153. 82 S. Freud, “Neuro-psychoses of Defence”, The Standard Edition, Vol. 3, [1984], p. 47. 83 S. Freud, Letter 6th December 1896, Extract from Fliess Papers, The Standard Edition, Vol.1, [1890-1892] p. 233. 84 S. Freud, “Neuro-psychoses of Defence”, The Standard Edition, Vol. 3, p. 47. 85 Ibid, p. 52. 86 Ibid, p. 59. 87 Ibid, p. 199. 88 S. Freud, “The Aetiology of Hysteria”, The Standard Edition, Vol. 3, [1896], p. 2013. 89 S. Freud, “Screen Memories”, Early Psycho-analytical Publications, The Standard Edition, Vol. 3, [1899], p. 315. 90 S. Freud, “Affects in Dreams”, The Interpretation of Dreams, The Standard Edition, Vol. 5: 1990-1901, p. 460. 91 S. Freud, Letter 15th October 1897, Extract from Fliess Papers, The Standard Edition, Vol. 1, p. 263. 92 S. Freud, Letter 14th November 1897, Extract from Fliess Papers, The Standard Edition, Vol. 1, p. 263. 93 J. Breuer & S. Freud, “Frau Emmy von N”, Studies on Hysteria: 1893-1895, Case Histories, The Standard Edition, Vol. 2, p. 59. 94 Ibid, p. 66. 95 J. Breuer & S. Freud, “The Case of Katharina”, Studies on Hysteria: 1893-1895, Case Histories, The Standard Edition, Vol. 2, p. 128. 96 J. Breuer & S. Freud, “Fraülein Anna O”, Studies on Hysteria: 1893-1895, Case Histories, The Standard Edition, Vol. 2, [*date?] p. 29. 97 S. Freud, “Analysis of a Case of Chronic Paranoia”, Early Psycho-analytic Publications, The Standard Edition, Vol. 3, [1896], p. 177. 98 P. Pawlilowski, Dir. Ida, film, Poland, Denmark, France, U.K.: Canal, Polska, Danish Film Institute, Eurimages. 99 S. Freud, Letter 52 6th December 1896, Extract from Fliess Papers, The Standard Edition, Vol. 1, pp. 235-236. 100 J. Breuer & S. Freud, “On the Psychical Mechanism of Hysterical Phenomena: Preliminary Communication”, Studies on Hysteria: 1893-1895, Case Histories, The Standard Edition, Vol. 2, [1893], p.17. 101 S. Freud, “Splitting of the Ego in the Process of Defence”, The Standard Edition, Vol. 23, [1938], p. 275. 102 S. Freud, “Little Hans: Analysis of a Phobia in a 5 Year-old Boy”, Case Histories, The Standard Edition, Vol. 10, [1909], p.22. 103 S. Freud, “Repression & Defence Addenda”, Inhibitions, Symptoms and Anxiety, The Standard Edition, Vol. 20, [1925], p. 164. 104 S. Freud, “The Case of Schreber: Remembering, Repeating and Working Through (Further Recommendations on the Technique of Psychoanalysis), Papers on Technique and Other Works, The Standard Edition, Vol. 12, [1914], p. 150. 105 S. Freud, “The Devil and the Father Substitute”, The Ego and the Id and Other Works, The Standard Edition, Vol. 19: 1923-1925 [1922], p. 85. 106 Ibid, pp. 86-87. 107 The Zohar, op. cit., Vol. 1., p. 253. 108 Ibid, pp. 284-285.  

 

 

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                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             109 S. Freud, “Course of Illness”, Hysteria, The Standard Edition, Vol. 1 [1888], p. 51. 110 S. Freud, Letter 57, 24th January 1987, Extract from Fliess Papers, The Standard Edition, Vol. 1, p. 244. 111 S. Freud, “Poetry and Fine Frenzy”, Note 3, Drafts No. 3, 31st May 1897, The Standard Edition, Vol. 1, p. 256. 112 S. Freud, Letter 69, 21st September 1897, Extract from Fleiss Papers, The Standard Edition, Vol. 1, p. 259. 113 Ibid, p. 260. 114 S. Freud, “Disturbance of Affect”, Psychopathology (1886-1899) The Standard Edition, Vol. 1, [date?] p. 358. 115 J. Kristeva, Desire in Language: A Semiotic Approach to Literature and Art, New York: Columbia University Press, 1980, p. 132. 116 A. Artaud, cit. ibid, p. 132. 117 J. Kristeva, ibid, p. 133. 118 Ibid, p. 133. 119 Ibid, p. 134. 120 Ibid, p. 136. 121 A. Artaud, cit. ibid, p. 139 122 J. Kristeva, ibid, p. 144. 123 F. Céline, cit. ibid, p. 144. 124 J. Kristeva, “Revolution in Poetic Language”, The Kristeva Reader, ed. T. Moi, Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1986, p. 95. 125 J. Kristeva, The Powers of Horror: An Essay in Abjection, trans. L.S. Roudiez, New York: Columbia University Press, 1982, p.1. 126 Ibid, p. 2. 127 Ibid, p. 47. 128 Ibid, p. 47. 129 A. Artaud, “Fragments of a Journal in Hell”, in Artaud Anthology, ed. Jack Hirschman, San Francisco: City Lights, 1965, p. 40. 130 A. Artaud, “There’s an Anguish”, in Artaud Anthology, p. 31. 131 R.N. Sollod, Beneath the Mask: an Introduction to Theories of Personality, Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley & Sons, 2009, p. 119. 132 C.G. Jung, cit. ibid, p. 157. 133 M. Klein, cit. ibid, p, 217. 134 M. Klein, cit. ibid, p. 218. 135 J. Lacan, “Aggressivity in Psychoanalysis”, in Écrits: A Selection, trans. Alan Sheridan, New York: W.W. Norton, p. 9. 136 Ibid, p. 11. 137 J. Lacan, “Function and Field of Speech and Language”, in Écrits, p. 42. 138 J. Kristeva, The Powers of Horror, p. 43. 139 Ibid, p. 49. 140 Ibid, p. 85. 141 B. Hood, The Self Illusion: How the Social Brain Creates Identity, Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 2012, p. 234. 142 S. Harter, The Construction of the Self: A Developmental Perspective, New York: The Guilford Press, 1999, p. 267. 143 B. Hood, The Self Illusion, p. 269. 144 Ibid, p. 267. 145 J. Lacan, “Function and Field of Speech and Language”, in Écrits, p. 52. 146 Ibid, p. 53. 147 J. Kristeva, “The Semiotic and the Symbolic”, from Revolution in Poetic Language, in The Kristeva Reader, p. 91. 148 J. Kristeva “The Phenomenological Subject of Enunciation”, from Revolution in Poetic Language, in The Kristeva Reader, p. 91. 149 Ibid. 150 Ibid, p. 92. 151 Ibid, p. 94. 152 Ibid, p. 93.  

 

 

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                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             153 J. Kristeva, “The Semiotic Chora Ordering the Drives”, from Revolution in Poetic Language, in The Kristeva Reader, p. 94. 154 Ibid, p. 95. 155 Ibid, p. 96. 156 J. Kristeva, “The Thetic Rupture: And/Or boundary”, in The Kristeva Reader, p. 98. 157 Ibid p. 99. 158 J. Kristeva, “The Mirror and Castration Positing the Subject as Absent from the Signifier”, in The Kristeva Reader, p.101. 159 Ibid, p. 102. 160 Ibid, p. 102. 161 J. Kristeva,”Frege’s Notion of Signification & Denunciation”, in The Kristeva Reader, p. 108. 162 J. Kristeva, “Breaching the Thetic: Mimesis”, in The Kristeva Reader, p. 111. 163 Ibid, p. 112. 164 J. Kristeva, “The Unstable Symbolic: Substitutions in the Symbolic – Fetishism”, in The Kristeva Reader, p. 116. 165 J. Kristeva, “Einfühlung – An Identification with Metaphorical Object”, Women, Psychoanalysis, Politics, in The Kristeva Reader, p. 244. 166 J. Lacan, “Symbol and Language as Structure and Limit of the Psychoanalytic Field”, Function and Field of Speech and Language II, in Écrits, p. 66. 167 Ibid, p. 67. 168 Ibid, p. 68. 169 Ibid, p. 69. 170 F. de Saussure, Course in General Linguistics, Ed. C. Bally & A. Sechehaye, in collab. A. Riedlinger, trans., intro. & notes W. Baskin, New York, Toronto & London: McGraw-Hill Book Co, 1915. 171 L. Stein, Becoming Whole: Jung’s Equation for Realising God, New York: Helios Press, 2012, p. 2 172 Ibid, p. 56. 173 C.G. Jung, “The Phenomenology of the Spirit in Fairytales”, in The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1959 [1948], p. 233. 174 C.G. Jung, “Conscious, Unconscious and Individuation as the Integration of the Personality”, ibid, p. 275. 175 J. Lacan, The Four Fundamental Concepts of Psycho-analysis, London: Karnac Books, 2004, p. 253. 176 K. Halmi, in Eating Disorders, Vol. 6, Eds. M. Maj, K. Halmi, J. J. Lpez-Ibor & N Sarforius, Chichester, UK: WPA Series Evidence and Experience in Psychiatry, John Wiley & Sons, 2003, p.3. 177 K. Chernin, The Hungry Self: Women, Eating & Identity, New York: Times Books, 1985. p. 25. 178 M. Klein, cit. The Hungry Self, p. 118. 179 M. Klein, cit. ibid, p. 119. 180 W. James, “Lecture 1: Religion and Neurology”, in The Varieties of Religious Experience: A Study in Human Nature, 2016 [1902], online @: https://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/j/james/william/varieties/contents.html Consulted 21st August, 2015. 181 L. Malcove cit. A.R. Favazza, “Self-Mutilation, Eating Disorders and Canniablism”, in Bodies Under Siege: Self-Mutilation and Body-Modification in Culture and Psychiatry, London: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996, p. 62. 182 Ibid, p. 51. 183 Ibid, p. 54. 184 Ibid, p. 62. 185 Ibid, p. 62. 186 Ibid, p. 67. 187 Ibid, p. 66. 188 C. G. Jung, “The Psychology of Transference”, in The Collected Works of Carl Jung, Vol. 16, London: Routledge & Kegan, 1954 [1946], p. 167. 189 Ibid, p. 170. 190 M. Klein, “The Child Who Couldn’t Sleep” in Great Cases of Psychoanalysis, trans. A. Strachey, New York: Ballantyne Books, 1959, p. 67. 191 S. Freud, “The Technique of Psycho-analysis”, An Outline of Psycho-analysis, in The Standard Edition, Vol. 23, [1938], p. 180. 192 F. Perls, R. Hefferline & P. Goodman, Gestalt Therapy, Excitement and Growth in the Human Personality, Highland, NY: The Gestalt Journal Press, 1994, p. 433.  

 

 

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                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             193 Ibid, p. 434. 194 Ibid, p. 187. 195 I. Oilman, Freud and the Mind, Oxford, UK: Basil Blackwell, 1984, p. 123. 196 C. G. Jung, Symbols of Transformation: an Analysis of the Prelude to a Case of Schizophrenia, The Collected Works of C. G. Jung, Vol. 5, p. 35. 197 F. Perls et al., Op cit, p, 69. 198 J. Lacan, My Teaching, London: Verso, 2008, p. 26. 199 L. Irigaray, Speculum of the Other Woman, trans. Gillian C. Gill, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1985, p. 193.