To Read the Text

by Random1

The Endless thinking about Literary Theory. Death, Destruction, Delirium, Despair and Desire in that order. No Dream or Destiny, because I was trying to keep this a perfect drabble, ie only 100 words long. It came out as 102, which is not bad going...

Shakespeare has taken my hand once before, but I wait for him a second time. Rushdie evades me, though he stands in my shadow twice over

I hide in deconstruction. They say I am as important as creation now.

THe tExt iS OpEn. aLl MEaniNgs aT oNCe. It dOEsN't maKE sEnSe! iS theRe a WorD fOr wHEn woRDs sTop wORkinG?

Language is a mirror held to reality. I watch from behind every mirror. Language is a fractured mirror, and I stare back a thousand times over. Language is a flawed tool, and I wait behind every sentence.

You know you desire meaning.

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Death, Destruction, Delirium, Despair and Desire in that order, talking mostly about Deconstruction, Derrida and DeMan. I own neither the Endless nor the Critical Theories. All hail to Neil Gaiman. He doesn't own the Critical Theories either.