“Does He believe all that stuff?” He enjoys it. That may be the worst of it.
He lives daily with a degree of anxiety. Writing is an uneven pleasure. He doesn’t want to be a smartarse, but that is how He looks to Himself sometimes. He’s at his most vulnerable when He is pleased with something. That’s when ‘It’ enters with doubt and discouragement. “Why do you write this stuff in public?” It asks. “Does it not look pathetic?” “It’s a kind of mirror,” He replies, ” He makes the image before looking into it.” “Crazy!” ‘It’ responds. “More repetition – mirror, mirror on the wall. Hoping to be the fairest?” Here is something of a quiet insanity of a man looking into a mirror only to see the back of his own head, (Magritte’La Reproduction Interdite’) about it all. The image is a straitjacket for the man.
Parmigianino’s Pigeon. He loves the sound and rhythm of ‘Parmigianino’. The ‘Madonna of the Long Neck’, he has always found to be an amusing title. The alliterative thought of ‘Parmiaganino’s Pigeon’ made Him smile. This little series involving titles continues tentatively. “But don’t change the subject, why in public?” ‘It’ insists. “The man has no choice but to keep looking for a face that he will never see.” “His anxiety involves a fear of being found out, of the finger pointing at His vanity, of a ridiculous face. Going public is a double bluff.” “As if it mattered to anybody else!” ‘It’ countered.
