Oxford, again. Why do we come here? Why, year after year? W. feels as though he's suffocating, he says. As though his hands were clawing the air. Still, at least we didn't bring Sal, though she wanted to come. She'd run amok, we agree. It's like matter and anti-matter, we agree. Bringing Sal to Oxford might destroy the universe.
Still, here we are, suffocating again, buried alive again. Being buried alive is bad enough, W. says, but being buried alive with an idiot! At least I should amuse him. At least I should do something funny. But Oxford even gets to me. It's like going round with a sulky ape.
Why does Oxford always make him think of Poland?, W. wonders. Perhaps because Poland is the opposite of Oxford, W. says. Because Poland is a place of thought, where thought is valued, and Oxford is a place without thought, and where thought is despised.
Poland: ah, that's where it all began, so many years ago now, we agree. Our collaboration, our dog and pony show.
Is there such a thing as friendship at first sight, W. wonders? Well, that's what happened in Poland, in Wroclaw, W. says, when he saw my Adam Ant dancing: friendship at first sight.
Ah, he still remembers it, when, in the middle of the meal held our honour, the British delegation in Wroclaw, I pushed back my seat in order to demonstrate Adam Ant dancing. He remembers when I took to the dancefloor, recreating Adam Ant dancing from the 'Prince Charming' video. And he remembers how the Polish postgraduates followed me; how they, too, pushed back to their seats and took to the dancefloor, likewise recreating Adam Ant dancing from the 'Prince Charming' video.
Lars is a man who does not know shame, W. thought to himself. And he seems to encourage others, too, to forget their shame. And soon W., too, pushed back his chair, and took to recreating Adam Ant dancing on the dancefloor.
Lars Iyer's Blog 