|Anatomy of a Fish Hook|
The process of abstraction, of making the thing, the experience of the thing, into a word; of making the territory into a map; the meal into the menu. It is understood the word is not the thing.
There is a sense, which opens a philosophical can of worms, that there are two lives: the one lived in world and the one thought about. My body, my flesh, my meat, seems a thing sunk down in the water, hook, line and sinker. Still, there is this line leading upwards to that which has cast me outwards into the wilderness of this world and that which will pull me back in over the years. The implication is amusing and terrifying: my flesh, my physical being in the world, is a lure, bait. I am being trolled through dark waters and bottomless depths in order to attract something other, some rough beast. At the core of me, I am crucified with a hook, turned over into a mark of question, that, at the moment of my annihilation, sink into the brain of the thing I have lured out of the depths, returning all things to the One.