I lapse into stammering, and can't get a word out for several minutes. W. is convinced I've had a series of minor strokes, and that one day I'll lose the ability to speak altogether. He'll be my amanuensis, W. says, like Rosenzweig's wife, who, in the period of her husband's total paralysis, used to spell the alphabet out loud until he was able by a signal – an inarticulate sound, a facial contortion – to indicate the correct letter. I am a cock, that's what W. will make me spell every time. I – am – a – cock.
Lars Iyer's Blog 