'The sum of modernity is a
deconstruction of function and a parody of form. It is both signifier
and signified. It is based in baselessness yet post-debased.'
- So
muttered Dieter Schlemp (author of Terrorism as a Selfie:
The Case Against Common Sense, published by Ineffable University
Press, 2006) in his sleep as a small amount of dribble escaped the
corner of his gob and was absorbed by his pillow.
When awake, Dieter described himself as
a 'Para-Baudrillardian Crypto-Narratologist'. He liked his
self-descriptions to be as inaccessible as
his treatises. He never trusted an idea
that could be understood, even by himself. That was why he liked his
own ideas so much, even while positing them he never knew what he was
talking about. Elaborate pronouncements would just spout from the
largest hole in his face and wind their way through the mental ether
looking for some sense to make. Dieter often entertained the notion
that his ideas would one day be understood but that day was not today
and it wouldn't be any day soon. Dieter considered that if such a day
was to come at all it probably wouldn't be during his lifetime but
what a day it would be because his ideas sounded like they might be
marvellous. For the time being though,
Dieter had no idea what he was on about, he just kept going on about
it. 'Does a river have to know where it is flowing?' was what he said
in his defence to Annabelle, his wife, when
she pointed out that he was 'spoofing' again.
Dieter was assumed to be of superior
intellect by his peers who never argued any of his points for fear of
revealing that they didn't understand the
point that was being argued. Rarely did they realise
that there was in fact no point to be argued and that Dieter prided
himself on never having a point at all. Dieter was of the opinion
that no one had an actual point when they expressed themselves and
that when people expressed themselves they were merely seeking to
make some kind of connection with others or, perhaps, to hear the
sound of their own voices. All discourse, as far as Dieter was
concerned, is just nervous systems in search of approval so as to
better their chances of survival and/or reproduction. Dieter had
experienced much approval in his life and he had also reproduced. He
and Annabelle had two children. The first was a girl they named
'First' and the second was a boy they named 'Third'. They were trying
for a Second. Annabelle wanted to call the children what she
considered to be 'proper names' but Dieter argued that to name
someone is to encumber them with a title. Annabelle told Dieter that
she didn't know what he meant by that and Dieter reminded Annabelle
that he never meant anything. Then Annabelle took something for her
nerves.
So, anyway, there was Dieter, talking
in his sleep and dribbling and next to him was Annabelle, ever
dutiful, rising from the bed, reaching for the dictaphone and holding
it to his mouth. With any luck she'd manage to record a few pages for
Dieter's next book by the morning. So much of his oeuvre was achieved
this way, nocturnal rambling. Then he'd wake up and ask her if she
'got anything' and she'd hand him the dictaphone and he'd feverishly
rattle the device's recording onto his keyboard. Dieter had a devoted
following of readers who were convinced his books might have changed
their lives, probably. His publications always received rave reviews
and went to several editions.
Annabelle wasn't sure if she loved
Dieter but he was certainly a cash cow. Gerald, the only other man
she suspected she'd had significant feelings for, could never have
provided her with the status she desired. By the time Gerald had
proposed, Annabelle had met Dieter at a debate on the ethics of
having ethics that was hosted by her faculty. She had seen Dieter
before, as a frequent panelist on a late night television discussion
programme called God Forbid. He had deep
set eyes and a jutting jaw. When he leaned forward the whole world
seemed to lean back. He wasn't a tall man but he was imposing, like
an owl or something. He wasn't a bit like Gerald at all. Gerald was a
huge soft heap of a guy. He was like a massive cloud that no one ever
noticed.
Dieter asked Annabelle to join him for
dinner at Wittgenstein's Pabulum, a restaurant that was known for being frequented by the
literati. When their meals arrived, Dieter
threw his plate on the floor in what he loudly pronounced to be an
act of 'asymmetric digestion'. The people
at the other tables applauded and did the same. Annabelle knew, there
and then, that Dieter was the man for her. Gerald was heartbroken of
course. He put rocks in his pockets and walked into a lake. Annabelle
tried not to think of Gerard since but sometimes she did, on those
occasions when Dieter wasn't around and First and Third were at
school and she had a moment to sit and wonder to herself what it all
means. She became quite anxious on those occasions.
She'd wait for Dieter to return and, later in bed, she'd sit up and
grip his shoulder and ask 'but really Dieter, what does it all mean?'
and Dieter would look at her with his caved-in eyeballs and his
antimatter pupils and say 'it means nothing, absolutely
nothing Annabelle'. Annabelle would feel strangely comforted by these words and
lay back in the bed and not think of Gerald or the way his sad cloudy
face exploded into the most beautiful smile each and every time he
saw her.
Dieter had once spoken to Annabelle of
love. He said love was a 'somewhat patronising
chemical reward for the misguided propagation of a flawed species'.
Annabelle asked Dieter if he actually meant that and Dieter said that it
didn't matter whether he meant it or not. 'It's just another idea',
he said.
