by Arran James
You speak and already you make a commentary about what is. You set up a distance even as you make it possible for what is to be known. I receive your commentary and translate it, play with the words to make a sense out of them which I can recognise, shrink it down into a frame I am comfortable with, familiar with and able to dwell in. I make a commentary of your commentary. In this way the commons produced by language are literary. Don’t ask what is revealed in a conversation or what it is I am saying to you; ask what it is I’m producing, distorting, overstating. No language without hyperbole. No language that isn’t performative. The metaxus isn’t simply a connective-separation but also a perturbation, a disturbance that makes both addresser and addressee something other than they are trying to be. All language is unconscious in this way; all conversation criminal. All conversation is a failure of silence and the horrific dream of telepathy.