Death as the space wherein all people are irrevocably connected. How to figure/perform a “corpsed” perspective, outside of reality? Gerald Murnane’s Inland makes a kind of utopia out of death, but not a death as the absence of life. That failure signals the desperation, and so on. “Corpsed” letters may be characterized by a certain kind of desperation that contradicts itself in the act of speech (or writing) by writing, narrators acknowledge the necessity of communication and the inscrutable feeling that s/he has failed in that act of communication.
I am, a friend once explained, a “sentimental humanist.” Not only does my imagination quail at the prospect of imagining myself a corpse, even my eyes cannot be faithful to the corpse for long, drawn back instead to the monumental vigor. You are a brutal rationalist, harboring no illusions about the nature of existence. I mean: imagine this drawing represents an absolute certainty about you, namely, that you will one day be a corpse.
Not the experience of being a corpse-clearly being a corpse is the end of all experience. Corpse,” in the New York Review of Books asks us to
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