Dereliction

Sometimes W. wants to send up a great cry of dereliction. Not his dereliction, he says, but dereliction in general. Abandonment.

Who has abandoned us? Who left us behind? In truth, we left oursevles behind. We deserted our duties, for what sense could we make of them? We deserted our responsibilities, which were too great for us.

We left it all behind, all the better to understand dereliction. That's what we wanted: to meet dereliction on its own terms, having thrown away our lives. That was what we sought: to give ourselves over to dereliction so thoroughly that dereliction, true dereliction, might find us.

When will it come? We're waiting. We're at the crossroads. We've come this far (we've sunk this low). Tommy Johnson was said to have sold his soul at the crossroads to become a great guitar player. We could sell ours, but who would want to buy them. Dereliction has deserted us – is that it? Even abandoment has abandoned us – is that what happened?