dread

“One of two things is true of pain. Either it remains inarticulate or else the moment it first becomes articulate it silences all else” – Elaine Scarry

 

Is this true? Or – this is true, and

 

There’s a dreadful middle space for language – where language resists its breaking (refuses inexpressibility), and, although it fails away from the true dimensions of its object, insists on coming forth. Saying nothing destroys speech; saying everything (everything at once, all the time) destroys speech (it becomes noise). Between everything and nothing there is this fractured zone, where language, unbroken but riddled with cracks and unsafe to operate, operates. Much damage is done in the process of description through approximate speech – earnest and wrong. In poetry (drama) we use, foremost of the spaces before and after the lines, before and after the performer, within and without the performer, that which is nuanced by and embedded in the story/pattern. Our fracture is bailed out by our brokenness on the one extreme and our desiring no worthless things (speech) on the other.

 

A script is the middle space. A script is dreadful.

 

Wellman, through his science of bad language, works this out.

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