It is easier said than done. What is? It. The damned thing. "And that's the damned thing!" Like my teacher Ira says his teacher Carlo used to say...
OK. Fine. Good. Then what is the damned thing? – "It depends." Which is what the clowns in Slava's Snowshow said, says Ira. But they were talking about something else, the show, the thing, not the damned thing.
And yet, of course the show depends on that. The damned thing. There's the thing, and then there's the damned thing. That's the damned thing. It all depends.
"It depends." – What? On what? Yes yes yes we know, we know – well, at least I do: there's nothing new under the sun. But it shines on, having no alternative. It's the Bible and Beckett. The Ancient Testament and the nothing new. Christ, it's obvious!
The divine individual, I recently heard someone say. Somebody? I hope so. I could be you, I could be me. Je est un autre. Rimbaud and all we really need to know about otherness. Know or recognise? Knowledge or recognition? Universe or plain verse – a song to myself?
What man? This man, that man, woe! Man. (OK man, we get it.) The damned thing, it depends. On you, me. I. Easier said than done. But I understand.
Really? Well then do it! – What? The thing or the damned thing?
The thing. You can only do the thing. The damned thing is something else. It depends on you. It is you. The thing is something else. It's just a thing. It's not you. It's something you do. You're not it. You're not what you do but it depends on you. You're not the damned thing but it's something you do. The damned thing is you when you're doing what you do. The damned thing is what you're doing when you're you.
And if you're human it's nothing new. It's you. And it could be me. Car je est un autre. And that's all for now.