What happens is parting…
The incommensurable does not lie outside of language. It is language.
– Werner Hamacher, Minima Philologica –
“Off” bothered Alias. It aggravates Alias that Laramie only and simply, states and declares the term “off.”
Strikes him as unfair. Short-shrift. Foregone. An easy conclusion. A self-imposed or autocratic EXIT. Cheap escape.
Conversation (that day) silenced (muted) and dulled. It soured. When participants elect not to speak their minds or piece, peace or conflict, new tensions are introduced. Silence [chosen, selected, fought for (or against), willed] intentional silence effects scenarios like speech. Withdrawal.
Alias tells him; ‘Refusal to speak equals a sort of speaking. We are both ‘in it.’”
“Off.” Laramie repeated, simply, only, just “off.” And, “the switch can be binary, non-complex, Alias, simply a choice – ‘I love you,’ ‘thank you,’ ‘I would prefer not to,’ – ‘no,’ – OFF – please allow me that. I am tired. You are my friend. All is well. It is good. Life is hard. Love is pain…OFF.”
The large, long, horizony cosmic swath of atmosphere containing and surrounding human interaction (in this case, in any case) snaps. It fractures. The environment (in this case, with the pronunciation of ‘OFF’) simply breaks.
There is quiet (as in) silent (as in) absence of sound, stillness of action, stasis of communion, of commerce, connection –
VACUUM. REFUSAL. A plea and a begging to STOP. QUIT. CEASE. To not continue, to NOT go on. A demanding request for an end.
Laramie states, speaks, invokes, complains, retorts, confesses, professes, declares and pleads and laments, quite simply, to his dearest, nearest and closest confidante, companion, friend and interlocutor – “OFF.”
Alias wants to honor…
grieves, requests, rescinds,
evoking ambiguity, anonymity, fiction and untruth.
The finch and bluejay and weasel.
Deer, cow, pasture, thistle.
Friends and morning-glories.
The sun, the air; clouds and mid-day.
2 thoughts on “Laramie begs “OFF,” or, what happens is parting”
oh the silences. I lived there many years, so well traveled no grass will ever grow under their paths. A dangerously easy road, for me, to travel.
This was beautiful, Nathan.
Thank you Jessica