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......................A NOTION OF CHARACTER, NOT SO MUCH DISCREDITED AS SIMPLY FORGOTTEN, ONCE HELD THAT PEOPLE ONLY CAME INTO THEMSELVES PARTWAY THROUGH THEIR LIVES. THEY WOKE UP, WERE THEY LUCKY ENOUGH TO HAVE CONSCIOUSNESS, IN THE ACT OF DOING SOMETHING THEY ALREADY KNEW HOW TO DO: FEEDING THEMSELVES WITH CURRANTS. WALKING THE DOG. KNOTTING UP A BROKEN SHOELACE. SINGING ANTIPHONALLY IN THE CHOIR. SUDDENLY: THIS IS I, I AM THE GIRL SINGING THIS ALTO LINE OFF-KEY. I AM THE BOY LEAPING AFTER THE DOG, & I CAN SEE MYSELF DOING IT AS, PRESUMABLY, THE DOG CANNOT SEE ITSELF. HOW PECULIAR! I LIFT ON MY TOES AT THE END OF THE PIER, TO DIVE INTO THE LAKE BECAUSE I AM HOT, & WHILE ISOLATED LIKE A SPECIMEN IN THE GLASSY SLIDE OF SUMMER, THE NOTIONS OF HOT & LAKE & I CONVERGE INTO A CONSCIOUSNESS OF CONSCIOUSNESS - IN AN INSTANT, IN BETWEEN LAUNCH & LANDING, EVEN BEFORE I DIVE INTO THE LAKE, SHATTERING BOTH MY REFLECTION & MY OLD NOTION OF MYSELF.

THAT WAS WHAT WAS ONCE BELIEVED. NOW, IT SEEMS HARDLY TO MATTER WHEN & HOW WE BECOME OURSELVES - OR EVEN WHAT WE BECOME. THEORY CHASES THEORY ABOUT HOW WE ARE COMPOSED. THE ONLY CONSTANT: THE ABJURATION OF PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY.

WE ARE THE NEXT THING TIME IS DREAMING, & NOTHING TO BE DONE ABOUT IT.

WE ARE THE FANCIFUL SKETCH OF ANATOMY, WE ARE DROLL & ORNAMENTAL, & NO MORE CULPABLE THAN A SPRIG OF LAVENDER OR LIGHTNING, & NOTHING TO BE DONE ABOUT IT.

WE ARE AN EXPERIMENT IN SITUATION ETHICS SET BY AN UNNAMED GOD, WHICH IN KEEPING ITS IDENTITY SECRET ALSO CLOAKS THE SCOPE OF THE EXPERIMENT & OUR CHANCES OF SUCCESS OR FAILURE AT IT - & NOTHING TO BE DONE ABOUT IT.

WE ARE LOPING SEQUENCES OF CHEMICAL CONVERSIONS, ACTING OURSELVES CONVERTED. WE ARE TWISTS OF GENES ACTING OURSELVES TWISTED; WE ARE WICKS OF OF BURNING NEUROSES ACTING OURSELVES WICKED. AND NOTHING TO BE DONE ABOUT IT. & NOTHING TO BE DONE ABOUT IT.