Fingers are salty. Furthermore, salt is an essential element in the diet of not only humans but of animals, and even of many plants. It is one of the most effective and most widely used of all food preservatives (and used to preserve Egyptian mummies as well). I imagine that finger salt, particularly the finger salt of others, is similarly rich in both taste and history.
pantopicon's Life List
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1. be a bit kinder to Vance
1 entry1 person -
2. find some old eight-track players to do evil things to
1 person -
3. beat up Keira Knightly
1 cheer1 person -
4. steal Pumpkin, my neighbour's cat
1 person -
5. publish my great Canadian novel
1 person -
6. have balls to scratch
1 person -
7. discover Vance's control scent
1 person -
8. exploit Vance's control scent for evil
1 person -
9. understand Vance's obsession with human furniture
1 person -
10. judge others harshly
1 person -
11. accept "Bob" Dobbs as my own personal saviour
1 entry . 1 cheer1 person -
12. rediscover my inner bitch
1 cheer1 person -
13. peer into the center of the world
1 person -
14. eat food from someone else's fingers
1 entry1 person -
15. be fictitious
1 entry1 person -
16. be turned into a line of executable code
1 entry . 1 cheer1 person -
17. find a way to reunite Vance with his alien family from the legendary planet of Magrathea
1 entry1 person -
18. remember me
1 entry5 people -
19. write and publish a Harlequin romance novel
2 people -
20. go to Vegas and see if what I do there stays there
1 person -
21. stop desiring to do evil things
1 person -
22. master the art of logic
1 person
... from the invisible inside , where I could neither see nor want the very thing that I have always been scared to have revealed on the scanner, by analysis – radiology, echography, endocrinology, hematology – a crural vein expelled my blood outside that I thought beautiful once stored in that bottle under a label that I doubted couldavoid confusion or misappropriation of the vintage, leaving me nothing more to do, the inside of my life exhibiting itself outside , expressing itself before my eyes, absolved without a gesture, dare I say of writing if I compare the pen to a syringe, and I always dream of a pen that wouldbe a syringe, a suction point rather than that very hard weapon with which one must inscribe, incise, choose, calculate, take ink before filtering the inscribable, playing the keyboard on the screen, whereas here, once the vein has been found, no more toil, no responsibility, no risk of bad taste or violence, the blood delivers itself all alone, the inside gives itself up and you can do as you like with it, it’s me but I’m no longer there, for nothing, for nobody , diagnose the worst…
(Jacques Derrida “Circumfession”)
