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This report is taken from PN Review 227, Volume 42 Number 3, January - February 2016.

A Calendar of Local Expressions Frank Kuppner
1. Aha! Do I perchance espy here a[nother] slight trace of Original Sin?

2. Life is perhaps the slightly more accurate dream of the two. [Occasionally one hears ‘less accurate’. In fact, I heard that version myself once, while driving (I think) down Audery Street—though there, probably, it was the word ‘delusion’ that was being used. I was far too altered, metaphysically speaking, to be utterly convinced. (By which I certainly do not mean ‘drugged’, Officer!)]

3. At the very least, love must be one of our two or three most vital self-deceptions, must it not? [No. And who, my dear accomplice, can ever quite be certain just what, say, the third or fourth of these might be?]

4. God is, if anything, the ruins of something much more truly human. [Also found in the plural, of course. Not ‘reins’!]

5. Yes, Madam. Things are getting so much better all the time, it’s just such an absolute tragedy if a final delirious breakdown is lurking in wait for us really a very little way ahead, ever so slightly further up the road, is it not?

6. So. This happens too, does it? [The initial full-stop is self-evidently optional.]

7. But is it really to be supposed that, so much like everybody else, I too am merely the one whom those particular bullets of non-Existence, of not-yet-organic-existence, just happened to hit? [Hmmm. Yes. When I was not yet not even nowhere! (But come with me for a moment anyway, ...


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