The Towering Irrelevance

You know nothing, nothing, but nothing

You can’t touch me.

   I have no eyes, no ears, no teeth, no tongue, no brain tissue, no hair, no lungs, no heart, no bowels, no cock, no voice, no smell; there is no blood in me, there is no lymph in me, there is no feeling in me, no devotion in me, I do not know hunger, I do not know the roads, and I do not know pain, I do not know the directions, I do not know the hiding places and I will never seek them out, and I know nothing of the earth, of sweat and of danger, I know nothing about skin, about flesh, about pus and about bones, useless for anyone to scream at me, I don’t understand, because I don’t hear anything,  useless for anyone to strike at me, I don’t see, I am entirely blind, you don’t know what I’m like and what I am, because you can’t even picture it, you can’t even conjure me up in your dreams

etc.

Part of the second of fourteen chapters of Animalinside by Laslo Krasznahorkai, translated by Ottilie Mulzet, published by Sylph Editions and New Directions in turn, for sale here, read out loud today by Sam while we stood at the cash register, read privately by myself, thrilling with terror, on a hurtling overwarm train this past fall, posted now in response to Daniil Kharms and Zach Schomburg.

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