It is spring-time on Harris Creek, and one's thoughts naturally turn to love and hate; it is mating time. Our two resident swans have already done the deed and are preparing the nesting sight. She will sit on eggs that will not hatch, because some god has willed it so, and applied a magic potion to the eggs that conceals from the swans the fact that nothing is going to come of this. She will sit and he will cruise the creek attacking any intrusion of other swans, into that body of water that is their homeland. And those geese who for some reason refuse to return to Canada, are also in a mating mode and will become a particular mad preoccupation with his Royal Highness, the male swan.

The swans and geese are unconcerned with sharing this body of water outside the window of my hermitage, until this time of year, when warfare breaks out, just like clock work. His Royal Highness is not only in a protective mood, he also desires to kill the goslings who will, unlike his own heirs, perform an entry into his realm. I have observed this tragicomedy for many springs now, and only the details vary. The geese are not innocent victims, they actively harass the harried king. The pitched battles go on day after day, until such time as it becomes evident to the swans, that nothing has come of this and it is time to return to world they occupied before this madness began.

"Let no man separate what God hath joined." The power to separate and join belongs to God alone, not man; man is subject to this process of separating and uniting, to this God, Thanatos/Eros. I am slave to this process, not master of it, a by-product, an after-image. The separation situation is the experience of the desire for unification; inferentially there is the desire to separate. Inferentially, the experience is always and only the desire for the opposite situation.

My birth is a casting out; I am what is cast out into the separation situation. Suddenly I feel the pang of separation and the hunger to re-unite, to return to the previous situation. In the separation situation desire is polarized, it meets itself in a feed-back loop. The actor who plays the part of Eros meets the actor who plays the part of Thanatos, "together for the first time on the same stage." The separation situation is a story, a dramatic confrontation between eating and shitting, and the purpose of the confrontation it to perpetuate itself. The play is the God, not the besotted actors.

The body of the play is a genuine two-in-one, a corporate, incorporating body; a body-in-coitus; a hermaphrodite. It appears to the players that there are two separate bodies; the players identify themselves with one of the parts of the corporate whole, which is inclusive of both parts. Absent this identification of the participants with opposite parts, it appears the play can't go on. The whole experience is schizophrenic. " The crucified body, the crucified mind. The norm is not normality but schizophrenia, the split, broken , crucified mind." Love's Body. 186.

The words were already here waiting for me, like my mother and father and sister. I do not think I knew the words before I came here, as I did not know those others. I came to know words as I came to know first the breast and then my mother; words came with these objects. The words that awaited me were written words, though spoken through the mouths of those others, they existed in a space outside them, and in a sense, the others were immersed in the words.

It is impossible for me to separate myself in relation to others from the artifice of words that we are all plugged into. But then there is the dream which dissolves the words into plastic symbolic images. Where do the words come from if not the dream? Where does the genital organization come from if not polymorphous perversity?

A book is a universe of words; a time/space continuum. A story or a history is composed of all those words existing between the front and back covers of a book, and there is no book without covers. The reading/writing may go on for a very long time, but finally the repressed returns. What returns is the unconscious process which is hidden between the covers of a book.