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Fantastically complicated machinery
Don Chihuahua spoke, but not to me - he addressed someone who was, in his mind, leaving.
"There is nothing romantic or beautiful about depression. It is fantastically complicated machinery, and yet an arbitrary scribble over life. An old friend of mine thinks of it as an unsolvable glowing blue hovering spherical puzzle, which credits it with some kind of aesthetic quality it does not deserve. I might say it was a circle, since it goes round, and around. But the circle is ugly, imperfect, not circular. Not elliptical or ovular, but erratic. Repeating endlessly, enough variation to deceive, but not enough for hope.
"Do not consider my choices to be considerate. Choosing not to die now is not a kindness. Suicide does not signify a soul, and living does not signify hope for one. Might I have forced your guilt to be over me and my death, rather than for him? I am a coward. I am unable even to usurp with absolute selfishness, and yet it is not because I am kind, but because I am already half-dead.
"Something aesthetically pleasing can inspire pity. You must see this as mere ugliness. There is no such thing as a beautiful episode. There are only shifts in the location of nowhere. This will not make sense and I will not explain it, since there is nothing to explain."
I held him in my arms, only to feel his repulsion.
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Lady Godiva
It was the cold middle of night, and I was summoned by Don Chihuahua. He spoke to me in low tones, without break, and without expecting a reply. I still do not understand his words, and cannot explain his meaning, except to say that I could see he was moved; as to why he accused me of being a spectre of his past, I do not know. An empty whiskey bottle lay by the side of his chair, and his ashtray was overflowing. He was unkempt and clearly tired. I do not know what to make of it - but here, as I have ever promised, is my account of his words.
"Lady Godiva - you know her - has returned". He looked at me accusingly. "She has left the darkness of the past and reappeared, just as you have. I do not ask what you want of me - I can teach you nothing that will alter the choices you make and if I could, well, then I would not be here now to tell you. You cannot force me into a different course of life, and if you could, well...
"But you know Lady Godiva. You love her as I loved her. And for all that we are connected, you and I - you with your incomprehension, and I with my all-too-familiar understanding - yet we are worlds apart. You, as I in my youth," - he grimaced - "do not see where real and imaginary worlds divide. I understand, as you will one day understand, that the unspoken and unenacted imagination overpowers a youthful mind to the point where he must speak and act, regardless of the consequences. My mind recoils in shame at the disasters and tragedies that could have been avoided had I only understood that the world is not a fiction, that the people in our lives are not players, that there is no drama, no denouement, no irony, and no authorial destiny awaiting us; and that to write it into our world is sheer vanity.
"These are the mistakes that you are doomed to repeat. And when we have switched places, and it is you, sitting here, no longer a spectre of my past but myself as I am, and you face the young pretender, as I face you now, then you will understand that that world you have written in your mind is precious, pure, and fragile. Then maybe you will understand that it should be protected, not because it will be destroyed, but because it has the power to destroy. The real world cannot stand the contamination of the unreal; the fates that you pretend to unfurl will not be dictated; the facts of your life will not yield to your delusion of providence; and the people in your life will not be written as though they were your playthings, but will rise and fight - or worse, simply leave you to your ruinous fictions, as I was left to mine, all those years ago, by Lady Godiva..."
He had stopped, and, since I had no idea what I could say, made to leave. As I reached the door, he called after me finally -
"Understand, mind, as you go about your folly, that she is blameless. It is I - you and I - who are responsible."
He looked away from me, clearly finished with me. And now I must see her, my Lady Godiva.
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