Barthes: I see! Your story yet not begins. Already you are talking lot about the last night event but still rambling on the beginning. Your narrative attracts me, because you take time to tell the actual story, if you really have a story to tell at last! However, it’s okay and I never mind listening even more. Stories are nothing but a reeling narrative of imaginative words, where the beginning is imperative rather to be ending it by choosing a tricky shortcut. Narrative is the sign of imagination, which maybe you tried to tell me since from the very beginning. I think narratives are not born to be ending; they are intended to return the beginning time and again, from where the story started by the narrator.
You are a narrator at this moment, whereas I am the listener and reader of your narration. Your story started by that you were reading my text last night in dream. You choose my book for reading in the dream, which you are unused to do in reality. I never see you to read a single word from my text, as because the beginning of your narration attracts me to listen furthermore. It is weird to read any text in the dream, but if it is possible to do, I think the option could perhaps better than the realistic option of read something in the real world.
We mostly forget that dreams are the silent sign of reality, where we interpret our real activities in an unspeakable language. Albeit, dream has own interpretation of words and it can speak by its own style of expression. The narrative purpose of any dream doesn’t depend on its clarity. Dreams are not purposeful to clear the fact it desirous to tell, as Wittgenstein believed that language is purposeful to clear its thought so far. He believed that the core objective of writing is “thought clearly” so far possible and write down the text clearly as far possible to do.
My opinion bit different here. I don’t believe that writing is a purposeful job. Writer is not dutiful to deliver his thought clearly. Thought is a signage of dreamy words and you always tried to manipulating the signage by your own imagination, so that the meaning could uncertain for further extent. When you are determined to say clearly, you then determinate the word, that was not born to be determinate.
I am writing for mine but when you read my text, you are been also the owner of this. The possession of any textual word depends on the reader that how much extent he could manipulate or distorting the meaning through his own imaginative application. Thought is a replication of distortion and never echoing the same despite the replication. I wanted to appreciate you for the dream you had seen last night. It is great that you tried to manipulate me without the slightest reading of my text before.
However, I am interested to hear the next. What was happening when you are reading my text? Which book you choose to read?
…: Me? That is the problem. I yet even try to remember the name that which book I choose to read in the dream. Perhaps it was “Mythologies”, No… No…, it perhaps “The Pleasure of the Text”; Oh no, not that book, maybe I read “A Lover’s Discourse”; or your utmost famous creativity to the world, hopefully you guess the name, yes “Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography”, but indeed I am not sure what I was reading on that time. Dream is an exotic reflection of some tangled action. I don’t know why people involve their self to the dream; maybe it is a desire of replacing the real world by the other, which contains lot of uncertain and thrilling moments.
When I am reading, your eyes were keeping busy to watch me. After the moment past, you started to talk with me behind the half-opened door. Your voice was sedate and you were talking me from remote. I was sitting under the bareheaded tree in the front yard. The sky was cloudy that day. The color of the cloud seemed unexceptional to me. A strange brown color fogged up the cloud. The surface was silent by the grayish-white sunlight. I am just sitting between the light and shadows.
When I started the first paragraph, your sedate voice then knocked me again,:-
“Hi! Do you know what the meaning of reading is? Do you guess that you are a thief? You read my book to stolen the hardy efforts. I am happy to see you reading but it is disputable to read anything like a rambler. If you wanted to read my book then you have to answer the question that, what is the purpose of writing and what do you accept from the reading.”
Your steady voice was fearful to me, because it was synthetic. I am already telling you that why I choose your book to read in the dream, but it was tough for me to answer the question on that particular moment. What could I say then? The environment was looking unreal and hostile to me. Your eyes were not friendly as you have in the real. The smile on your face was real like but the meaning was dubious to confuse me that you are real and perhaps I know you for a long day. However, can you guess what the answer was then?
Barthes: How can I guess that! It was your dream. You know what the perfect answer could be. It is tough to guess one by the other. We are separate in our lifestyle and be separate in thoughts and words. One could never get entrance to another. When he tried to entrance another’s world, “en verite” he entranced his own one’s. That is the key factor of writing and photographing or filming any object. You can never omit the person from the text; both of them are identical in there. When a person writes something in any form, he writes his own to the form; despite this you can open your own entrance point in his text by using your imaginative style.
Text is personally impersonal and that impersonation of “personally impersonal” could be happened when the text face its readers. It’s a dual shot of writing and reading. Writing any text is a plurality of logic and anti-logic; it’s a battle between the imaginations against the imaginations, where words are the fragmented symbol of individual mind. For me, it is tough to guess the answer you gave to me in the dream; if I am saying anything about it that would be reflect mine and be never reflects what you said exactly on the dream. I hope you understand the point.
…: Yes, I clearly understand your logical point. Yet even I am curious to know your answer about the answer I gave to you in the dream. It was a dream however but the characters are not fictional, they are the repercussion of the real world and you could not say that you know nothing about the characters. I am appealing you to guess what I could say against your question of the purpose of reading or writing anything in a textual form. Please guess something by your imagination that what the answer should be.
Barthes: Yeah, you are now acting clever than ever to trapped me in a cage. However, I never mind trapping by you. Textual narrative is a funny game of jigsaw puzzle. Your little child is perhaps very artful on it. The little kid know how to matching the fragmented pieces to get a unique picture. When the jigsaws are scattered and fragmented by pieces, they mean nothing unique. Each piece perhaps contains its own meaning but not the unique, which is the objective of this game.
Uniqueness depends on the combination you have made by combine the fragment pieces. Playing with words in any textual form is not different to the jigsaw puzzle. Your thoughts and imagination about the word is a fragment and scattered piece of the jigsaw board, when you unite them in one then they create a new meaning of oneness. Meaning of any text depends on the combination you are trying to make. I think my question in your dream on that particular moment was throwing you in the jigsaw puzzle; and I know so far that you are not artful on the game as like your kid. You should call him on the moment to learn the technique.
…: You are right. Kids are very playful creature. They have their own uniqueness by imagine anything they are wishful to imagine. Curiosity is vice for adults, because their curiosity never could cross the limit of experience they got from the reality. Kids are exceptional. Curiosity for anything is appeared a blessing for them.
My little kid could easily change the meaning of any word. He doesn’t bother to change or ignore the spelling and grammatical restriction we applied for it. I observed it thousands time that when he reads anything and on the moment if any word is coming difficult to pronounce for him, the little kid quickly change the spelling or the meaning of the word. Kids are very unusual to their imagination but we accustomed them to the discipline, where spelling and grammar whipping our mind to imagine on a limit.
Kids are poetic. They are the trafficker of apparently meaningless imaginations, which could be meaningful if you consider this for meaning. I certainly called him in my dream if it was possible to call him. The situation was weird on that moment. I am sitting under the upsetting bareheaded tree. The front yard is furthermore upsetting for the exotic fogged color. You are staring me from the remote by standing dark behind. Your face is not friendly as you are. Situation makes language. Surface dictates which words would be expedient to imagine. It would be better if I imagined your quote once you recited to me in the café. Would you remember the quote you recited from your book?
Barthes: You are an impossible Guy to trace. I quote millions words every day, maybe it is happening in the classroom or in a seminar and it could be happening in gossiping mood with you or anybody. You ought to remember that I spend thousands times in café with a thousand faces and all of them perhaps having experience of my quotation and rhetoric. My pity friend, now tell me how many moments be possible for me to remember?
…: Sorry. I think you misunderstood me. You are the celebrated personality with your complicated and completive lifestyle and am is just a footnote there. It is my good fortune that you give the chance to passing some moment by chatting or gossiping with you. Even you easily permit the audacity when I am saying that am not interested to read your books and rather to be intentional to exploring your ingenious personality sans the reading of your text anymore. To me, your impersonality is more ingenious than your text…
Barthes: I am not separate to my text friend. We are identical on the way. My words reflect what am I and is the contradiction between the “am” and the “text”. You know I enjoy to questioning myself and doing it many times to ask me, “Am I in love?” The answer yet even blurry to me but I love to quote that:-
“…yes, since I am waiting. The other one never waits. Sometimes I want to play the part of the one who doesn’t wait; I try to busy myself elsewhere, to arrive late; but I always lose at this game. Whatever I do, I find myself there, with nothing to do, punctual, even ahead of time. The lover’s fatal identity is precisely this: I am the one who waits.”
It reflects my desire that I am waiting for the moment when the lover has no time to wait for me. Dealing with language is not different in the milieu. Words are not waiting for you but you have to wait like a fish-hooker to catch it in your hook. Do you know why I treat the word as the skin of my body? The answer is not difficult for me. I feel the language to my skin, because, it contains my desire to deny everything that is offended to kill me.
I used words to kill you, not to save your soul from the caged prison. I love to playful in language just like the lover who is envious and reluctant to share his love to the other, instead the one he loves. My friend, …
“I encounter millions of bodies in my life; of these millions, I may desire some hundreds; but of these hundreds, I love only one.”
Why the only one is? The answer is simple my friend. It is not possible for a human to love thousands to millions. Words and language are just like that; if you wanted to be telling anything new, you have to love the words first to twisting it. You have to think that you feel jealous to the other to contaminate them by your destruction. Words are destructive imagination of meaning and you are the peddler of these destructive weapons.
You have to going all exotic experiences a lover does go by. You ought to remember the lover’s confession when you pick the board of jigsaw puzzle. I believe that:-
“As a jealous man, I suffer four times over: because I am jealous, because I blame myself for being so, because I fear that my jealousy will wound the other, because I allow myself to be subject to a banality: I suffer from being excluded, from being aggressive, from being crazy, and from being common.”
You have to experience the pain of love and separation when you are traveling on the imagination you have. Words are not born to sip the coffee typically from the decorated coffee pot. Words are not typical, because you are not typical. When you typical you are the mass and when you the mass you are nothing but a talkative parrot, skillful to repeat something. I am not coming here to repeat something you like. I come here to tear down your language by the wild, aggressive and impudent words of mine. Remember my friend, I am the aggressive lover of new ideas and thoughts and certainly the new imagination, but it has to be satisfying the condition that it is “New”. You could not clear your thought as Mr. Wittgenstein wanted to be clear, but you have the confidence to yourself that, :-
“The pleasure of the text is that moment when my body pursues its own ideas—for my body does not have the same ideas as I do.”
I don’t know what was your answer about the purpose of reading and writing. Anyway, I not give you the single chance to leave the café before answering the question I had asked to you in your dream. Now sip the coffee and tell me what was the answer is.
Continued to the next.