Return of The Psychoanalytic Field

I'm a reactive writer. I'm not inclined to spin out the kind of long contemplative meditations that Spurious (or Clavdia of Letters from a Librarian) do so well. I need to feel engagement, to feel something click, to realize that I've been preoccupied with the very ideas I'm reading about, but hadn't known it till that moment. Best of all, to find myself wakened to something else--thoughts that would seem to have only a peripheral relation to what has triggered them, that make me eager to trace out the connection, to find the parallel structure that has been waiting to for me... waiting to be Found.

Fadi Abou-Rihan's posts were good at that. A section of his multi-part review of Anti-Oedipus, or his series on "Found Things," would be good for a new chapter in my novel, or several poems. It wasn't necessarily the ideas, but the sense of engagement, of presence, that they evoked. I might change the subject entirely (most often, that would be the case), but what I was writing was part of a conversation again--the primal energy that drives me to write, so I was quite pleased to see, after a long silence, a new post on The Psychoanalytic Field. Abou-Rihan will be taking up where he left off--recapping some of his previous posts on Found Things, and then moving on to new material. I'm looking forward to reading his new posts, and to continuing what for me has been an energizing and creative conversation.
... speaking of Spurious

Kafka For Himself

You have to know you're not Kafka, says W., that's the first thing. But you have to know that the person you're speaking to might be Kafka, that's the second. This is why conversation, for W., is always a matter for hope. The very ability to speak, to listen and respond is already something, he says.