He was struck by the “idea” of writing a letter to a musician. Stuck on the thought that a letter might disperse his own misgivings about his work, free the language that so easily becomes bound by his own limitations—‘I agree to pluralize myself, to permit free cantons of stupidity to live within me’[1]—and imitations: as though thinking into writing could be a self serving reason to write something, anything rather than nothing (the body’s reversal). His “idea” is transformed as he writes; to write for someone else can be seen as a betrayal of the need to write. How difficult it is to make a letter signify sincerity, without wallowing in the repetition of doxa? The text expropriated and directed with such predetermined enthusiasm can only produce a nullification of voice, an emptying of content: the reader is overtly constructed without use (merely a form); this reader is reproduced in the form of numerous letters to the editorial of newspapers (repetition ad finitum).

He came to realize that a letter to a musician would annihilate this image-repertoire; the musician should remain oblivious to and immune from his writing, especially as the object of a text. He is fortunate that an alterior and relocatable language has been offered up, one that affords him the role of writer in no need of an audience (or musical ability). The subject/object—a double play— is more useful as a reversible fantasy. The desire to play has been surpassed for the precise reason the texts he invents can more easily float, fade, reverse, collide and mutate. The texts he writes become the haphazard and inconclusive acts of the music itself; the musical text becomes a displacement of his own desire to make an idea into a work from the matter of uselessness and substantiality. There is a compatibility borne out of the contradictions of the body itself: the discomfort of the hopelessness between human skin and object materiality.

He writes the letter everyday. His misgivings remain, his texts constitute anything and everything, they are self-serving, making the reader his inverse; the other. He is incessantly searching for this musicality, remaking its impossibility over and over: his own doxa is inescapable; the stupidity of his repetition—pop music.