Dead to the World

It was not only the thought that other people were moving on in their lives while I, at age fifty-two, remained stuck in a farce of human existence--though that appalled me and wakened in me a primitive insanity: a man with a hatchet gets to his feet and begins to dance in my mind whenever I have these thoughts. There is something worse. The fact that I had never lived, that I had thrown away my entire life, or had lost any meaningfully-lived experience in the chaos of mental illness. In many ways my travels through life had been a dangerous trip. I remember the bad episodes, speaking metaphorically, the rickety buses on mountain roads; the poisonous encounters with so many people; the opportunities that turned out to be dead-end traps; the abusive and crazy people I had met. My early childhood. Had I ever been happy?

I might have died, I think, in consolation. Surely it is better to be alive than dead. At least I am alive.

In adolescence it had always been a persistent worry of mine that I was doomed to die in a nuclear attack in a dismal place, where I had no business to be. I often dreamed of horrific explosions and blinding flashes of light, of my arms being hacked off by an angry mob, of catching fire. I always traveled as a stranger, alone. But I reassured myself with the sentiment that my family was waiting. It was a methodical superstition, like singing to keep my spirits up, and as long as they were thinking of me I would be safe--they were keeping me alive; and if I died they would be brokenhearted.

Now I knew better. I know that if I had died it would have made little difference. They would have been sorry in the guilty way that people are when some awful thing they desire deep down actually occurs. It might have been convenient, my death.

And now my death would mean nothing to anyone. The person I am now is not even the person I was twenty years ago. I am estranged from myself and my origins. It's as if someone else has taken over and totally displaced me. He -- the alter ego that has assumed my identity -- sits in my chair, writes at my desk, uses my books. He puts his feet on my stool. He sleeps on my side of the bed and dreams the dreams that I should be dreaming. I imagine the loss of my self, my sanity in this way. My vision is of the dining table, and a pen sitting atop a tablet of paper, the visible page smeared with ink. It was there when I left; and then I died, and someone else was at the table. But the pen and paper hadn't moved. It remained, with the smeared ink on it. The pronouncement It doesn't matter if you die is devastating. No one says that, but that is what everyone thinks. All my acquaintances or barely acquainted strangers who know of me think this, I'm sure.

I see now that my death does not matter. I was a fool for ever believing in my importance. I feel now that I don't count. Knowing all this is like dying; not cut down with one swipe of a blade, but going slowly as the truth sinks in and spreads like an infection.

I had always thought the most cynical lines in literature were in the Jacobean play The White Devil, by John Webster, and went something like: Before your corpse is cold you will already be forgotten:

O man,
That lie upon your death-bed and are haunted
with howling memories of the people you have known! Ne'er trust them; they'll forget you
Ere the worm pierce your winding sheet,
Ere the spider make a thin curtain for your epitaph.

It had seemed too cruel and taunting to be true.

It was true. I believe my case is worse, for I have not died but only gone away. I am lost and alone.

Who is Gary Freedman -- The Story Behind the Story

Easygoing: DRIVE: Can sometimes appear casual about work. Modest concern towards accomplishing goals. Able to set work aside. Quality and timeliness of work may ebb and flow with interest in task. ORGANIZATION: Reasonably well organized. May become somewhat disordered under heavy workload.

Very Private: Shy and reserved. Does not seek attention from others. Doesn't say much. Behavior is usually deliberate, cautious, and purposeful. SOCIABILITY: Enjoys some degree of socializing and being around people, but also values privacy.

Critical/Agreeable Blend: Makes an effort to be cooperative in social settings. Not overly concerned with getting along. Is able to work for the benefit of the group. EMPATHY: Can balance objectivity with others' feelings. Shows a reasonable amount of concern for others. TRUST: Has a generally forgiving nature. Moderate trust in others.

Very Reactive: Sensitive, emotional, and prone to experience feelings that are upsetting. Prone to be tense, insecure, and nervous. Experiences very strong and passionate emotions. ANXIETY: May suffer from anxiety, leading to a negative disposition. Sometimes worries too much. Feelings can be easily hurt. MOOD: Mood is fairly consistent. Can let go of anger after a short period of time.

Very Inquisitive: Curious. Seeks new experiences. Likely to have an unconventional approach to life. Enjoys intellectual discussion. Considers all aspects an issue before reaching a conclusion. CREATIVITY: Is quite original, creative and enjoys breaking new ground.

Letter from a Fellow Schizoid

This writeup is absolutely brilliant, articulate, and correct. I have been scouring the libraries and online journals for adequate information on SPD, and you seem to have it right here, good sir.

"Thus the schizoid's picture of 'good' behavior is distorted. The child learns never to nag or even yearn for love, because it makes the parent more distant and censorious. The child then may cover over the incredible loneliness, emptiness and ineptness he feels with a fantasy (often unconscious) that he is self-sufficient. Love and anger get hopelessly intertwined. Fairbairn argued that the tragedy of the schizoid child is that his conscience has been warped: he believes his love, not his hatred is the destructive force within. Love consumes. Hence the schizoid child's chief mental operation is to repress his or her normal wish to be loved."

So very true. I am a teenaged schizoid, and I found in my research on this condition that a lot of professionals have us tagged as "empty", "hollow", and "bitter". I would argue that we are not hollow; in fact, I think that if we were hollow we perhaps wouldn't suffer as much as we do. It is because we are not hollow that we suffer. We hate this need, this driving, fervent desire to love and be loved; we try to repress it and ignore it, and it is this love that causes pain. It is ironic therefore, that we even try to repress our pain until there is nothing left.

You are the first SPD source that has managed to pinpoint this crucial distinction: SPD emptiness does not derive from a lack of stimulation, but rather, too much of it causing subsequent withdrawal due to negative condition and traumatic experiences.

I got a lot of crap from my parents, teachers, professors, and other students about my seeming detachment and inability to commit.

Actually, I have recently met a friend who is, in all sense of the word, the most empathetic and compassionate individual I have ever met. We meet at both an intellectual level and a spiritual one, yet while I find myself wanting to spend time with this friend, it pains me to do so. It pains me to see this friend, and yet it pains me when I am not in her presence.

You have a fantastic writeup here, sir, and I commend you on your excellent research.

Holy Child Academy

Holy Child Academy
475 Shadeland Avenue
Drexel Hill, PA 19026

Happy Bloomsday!

Monday, June 16th, marks the hundred-and-fourth anniversary of Bloomsday, the date on which the events in James Joyce's Ulysses take place. The customary celebrations surrounding Leopold Bloom's famous walk through Dublin take place on Monday: public readings and festivals in cities around the world, including Dublin, New York, Berlin, Paris, St. Petersburg, and Melbourne. In Budapest last year, two hundred or so academics convened a Joyce symposium -- the twentieth to be held on Bloomsday.

Happy Bloomsday!

Watergate Revisited

The curtain is still down as I walk to the center of the proscenium and say this.
Abraham Pais, A Tale of Two Continents: A Physicist's Life in a Turbulent World.
There is no society in which reality and appearance coincide . . . . If Hamlet is obsessed by this discrepancy, this is not due to any psychopathology on his part; it is to be explained by the fact that he is in the unhappy state of knowing the truth, of having unveiled that secret on which the authority of the highest representative of the state basically rests.
K.R. Eissler, Discourse on Hamlet and HAMLET.
What is important is that chance has allotted Hamlet the role of judge of his own time and servant of the future.
Boris Pasternak, I Remember.
External events have forced him to do what everyone of us has to do if the potential of man's minds is to be used to its fullest: he has discovered the difference between appearance and reality—and the conflict between them. . . .

The problem in question is the necessity of keeping secret the foundation on which the state rests. Who has the courage to face this truth?
K.R. Eissler, Discourse on Hamlet and HAMLET.
Now the curtain rises.
Abraham Pais, A Tale of Two Continents: A Physicist's Life in a Turbulent World.
I walk out on the stage.
Leaning against a door jamb,
I try to catch in a distant echo . . .
Boris Pasternak, Dr. Zhivago (Excerpt from “Hamlet”).
. . . the story of that man . . .
Homer, The Odyssey.
. . . who, like . . .
Sigmund Freud, Psychoanalytic Notes Upon An Autobiographical Account of a Case of Paranoia.
. . . Hamlet once looked truly into the essence of things, . . .
Friedrich Nietzsche, The Birth of Tragedy.
. . . the very essence of the unknown;
Jack London, White Fang.
. . . gained knowledge, and . . .
Friedrich Nietzsche, The Birth of Tragedy.
. . . prepared for all the consequences . . .
William Manchester, The Glory and the Dream.
. . . dared to shatter . . .
Mark Frauenfelder, Cars for Arts Sake.
. . . the veils of illusion:
Friedrich Nietzsche, The Birth of Tragedy.
Who is the man who has wrought the deed ordained only for the strongest?
Richard Wagner, Gotterdammerung.
See him now!
Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Marble Faun.
. . . and see the breakers of misfortune swallow him!
Sophocles, Oedipus the King.
The following sketch, . . .
Kate Millett, Sexual Politics.
. . . drawn so clearly and in so much detail . . .
Boris Pasternak, I Remember.
. . . for the exclusive use of the highest authorities . . .
Hermann Hesse, Magister Ludi: The Glass Bead Game.
. . . is based primarily on background material and current impressions derived from press reports, including newspaper and magazine articles and television interviews. In addition, selected State Department and Federal Bureau of Investigation memoranda have been reviewed. As the data base is fragmentary and there has been no direct clinical evaluation of the subject, this indirect assessment should be considered . . .
C.I.A. Psychological Study.
. . . far from watertight . . .
Dr. Otto Eiser, Letter to Richard Wagner.
There is nothing to suggest in the material reviewed that subject suffers from a serious mental disorder in the sense of being psychotic and out of touch with reality. There are suggestions, however, that some of his long-standing personality needs were intensified by psychological pressures of the mid-life period and that this may have contributed significantly to his recent action.

An extremely intelligent and talented individual, subject apparently early made his brilliance evident. It seems likely that there were substantial pressures to succeed and that subject early had instilled in him expectations of success, that he absorbed the impression that he was special and destined for greatness. And indeed he did attain considerable academic success and seemed slated for a brilliant career. There has been a notable zealous intensity about the subject throughout his career. Apparently finding it difficult to tolerate ambiguity and ambivalence, he was either strongly for something or strongly against it. There were suggestions of problems in achieving full success, for although his ideas glittered, he had trouble committing himself in writing.

He had a knack for drawing attention to himself and at early ages had obtained positions of considerable distinction, usually attaching himself as a "bright young man" to an older and experienced man of considerable stature who was attracted by his brilliance and flair.
C.I.A. Psychological Study.
I have long been reminded of identical or very similar experiences with young men of great intellectual ability.
Richard Wagner, Letter to Dr. Otto Eiser.
But one can only sustain the role of "bright young man" so long. Most men between the ages of 35 and 45 go through a period of re-evaluation. Realizing that youth is at an end, that many of their golden dreams cannot be achieved, many men transiently drift into despair at this time.

In an attempt to escape from these feelings of despair and to regain a sense of competence and mastery, there is an increased thrust towards new activity at this time. Thus this is a time of career changes, of extramarital affairs and divorce.

It is a time when many men come to doubt their early commitments and are impelled to strike out in new directions.

For the individual who is particularly driven towards the heights of success and prominence, this mid-life period may be a particularly difficult time. The evidence reviewed suggests that this was so for Ellsberg, a man whose career had taken off like a rocket, but who found himself at mid-life not nearly having achieved the prominence and success he expected and desired.
Thus it may well have been an intensified need to achieve significance that impelled him to release the Pentagon Papers.
C.I.A. Psychological Study.
A brilliant and articulate member of the "military-intellectual complex" that was responsible for American military policy in Southeast Asia, Dr. Daniel Ellsberg underwent a conversion from cold-blooded hawk to committed dove and released to the . . .
Current Biography 1973.
. . . New York Times . . .
J. Moussaieff Masson, Final Analysis.
. . . portions of a top secret Pentagon study [the Pentagon Papers] tracing the history of American involvement in the Vietnam war.
Current Biography 1973.
Daniel Ellsberg, in whatever incarnation and in any job, was no ordinary man, he was an obsessive man; that which he saw, others must see, that which he believed, others must believe. Thus as he became increasingly disillusioned he also became a force. No one entered an argument with him lightly or left it exactly the same. As he became dovish, he was no ordinary dove; he was extraordinarily well informed, and his dovishness was that of formidable intelligence, of a mind that never stopped. As he reached each increment of doubt, he had to push on to one further level of knowledge and insight.
David Halberstam, The Powers That Be.
“I’ve always believed I could see things other people couldn’t. . . .”
Don Delillo, The Names.
. . . Ellsberg would muse . . .
Tom Wells, Wild Man: The Life and Times of Daniel Ellsberg.
“ . . . Elements falling into place. A design. A shape in the chaos of things. I suppose I find these moments precious and reassuring because they take place outside me, outside the silent grid, because they suggest an outer space that works somewhat the way my mind does but without the relentlessness, the predeterminative quality. I feel I’m safe from myself as long as there’s an accidental pattern to observe in the physical world.”
Don Delillo, The Names.
But whereas others might have been content with having come to the core of the rational explanation for the war (to the extent there was a rational explanation for something so irrational) he pressed on. He was a man who saw political events in terms of moral absolutes.
David Halberstam, The Powers That Be.
There is no suggestion that subject thought anything treasonous in his act. Rather, he seemed to be responding to what he deemed a higher order of patriotism. Many of subject's own words would confirm the impression that he saw himself as having a special mission, and indeed as bearing a special responsibility . . .
C.I.A. Psychological Study.
—that is to say, . . .
Sigmund Freud, Psychoanalytic Notes Upon An Autobiographical Account of a Case of Paranoia
. . . to show exactly how the minds of . . .
U.S. District Court (Southern District of New York), U.S. v. One Book Called “Ulysses.”
. . . those in authority . . .
Sigmund Freud, The Interpretation of Dreams.
. . . had become dehumanized by political conceit.
Boris Pasternak, Dr. Zhivago.
The articles in the New York Times made . . .
J. Moussaieff Masson, Final Analysis.
. . . a lot of officials look inept, foolish or worse.
William Manchester, The Glory and the Dream.
Let there be no mistake however:
Margaret Brenman-Gibson, Clifford Odets: American Playwright.
None of . . .
William Manchester, The Glory and the Dream.
. . . those passages of which the Government particularly complains . . .
U.S. District Court (Southern District of New York), U.S. v. One Book Called “Ulysses.”
. . . compromised American . . .
William Manchester, The Glory and the Dream.
. . . military operations
Boris Pasternak, Dr. Zhivago.
On several occasions he castigated himself for not releasing the papers earlier, observing that since he first brought them to the attention of . . .
C.I.A. Psychological Study.
. . . Members of Congress . . .
J. Moussaieff Masson, Final Analysis.
. . . there had been "two invasions," more than 9,000 American lives lost, and hundreds of thousands of Vietnamese deaths.
C.I.A. Psychological Study.
"Moreover"—he was not finished—
J. Moussaieff Masson, Final Analysis.
I will even go so far as to say, . . .
Emile Zola, The Debacle.
. . . if a nation . . .
K.R. Eissler, Discourse on Hamlet and HAMLET.
—if, that is, . . .
Sigmund Freud, The Ego and The Id.
. . . one’s country . . .
Emile Zola, The Debacle.
. . . is compelled to inflict such terrible destruction for the sake of establishing liberty, then this is indeed an unprecedented national disaster.
K.R. Eissler, Discourse on Hamlet and HAMLET.
He said, "I felt as an American citizen, a responsible citizen, I could no longer cooperate in concealing this . . .
William Manchester, The Glory and the Dream.
. . . cesspool of lies . . .
Henrik Ibsen, An Enemy of the People.
. . . from the American people. I took this action on my own initiative, and I am prepared for all the consequences."
William Manchester, The Glory and the Dream.
This myth of official infallibility must be destroyed.
Henrik Ibsen, An Enemy of the People.
What makes that description so significant is that it suggests a man who . . . believes sincerely in the values of his time and his society and is ready as well as able to live up to them. This is someone who has formed his ideals and developed his superego in conformity with the standards of his cultural setting. . . . Yet the harmony of his personality has rested on the assumption that the society whose ideals he has integrated has its foundations in an ethical base. K.R. Eissler, Discourse on Hamlet and HAMLET.
As it was, the Crusader felt . . .
Walter Scott, The Talisman.
. . . as if he were . . .
Walter Scott, Ivanhoe.
. . . here in the situation of the truly religious person who has been leading a spotless life in conformity with the demands of the Sacred Texts. If it were now to be proved that these Sacred Texts are fraudulent or forged or otherwise invalid, such a faithful person would be thrown into a crisis . . .
K.R. Eissler, Discourse on Hamlet and HAMLET.
In any case, . . .
Ernest Newman, Wagner as Man and Artist.
. . . Dr. E. . . .
Cosima Wagner's Diaries (Saturday, May 18, 1878).
. . . true to the role of a sleuth . . .
K.R. Eissler, Talent and Genius.
. . . had learned too much, . . .
Martin Gregor-Dellin, Richard Wagner: His Life, His Work, His Century.
. . . while the . . .
Wilkie Collins, The Evil Genius.
. . . President of the United States . . .
Cosima Wagner's Diaries (editors' notes).
. . . lost face and then tried to save it, either . . .
Martin Gregor-Dellin, Richard Wagner: His Life, His Work, His Century.
. . . by dissembling . . .
William Shakespeare, King Richard III.
. . . or by ascribing the disastrous outcome . . .
Martin Gregor-Dellin, Richard Wagner: His Life, His Work, His Century.
. . . of that dissembling . . .
Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol.
. . . to the machinations of . . .
Martin Gregor-Dellin, Richard Wagner: His Life, His Work, His Century.
. . . the meaner Press—
Ernest Newman, The Life of Richard Wagner.
. . . which was ready . . .
Charles Dickens, The Pickwick Papers.
. . . and eager, as always and everywhere, to pull down anything or anyone elevated by nature above it.
Ernest Newman, The Life of Richard Wagner.
Without . . .
Henrik Ibsen, An Enemy of the People.
. . . the ability of a government to keep secrets . . .
William Manchester, The Glory and the Dream.
. . . said the President . . .
Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, The Final Days.
. . . I should not be able to guide and direct public affairs in the way I consider best serves the common weal.
Henrik Ibsen, An Enemy of the People.
But in the end, the . . .
Felicity Barringer, Journalism’s Greatest Hits: Two Lists of a Century’s Top Stories.
. . . CIA psychiatrists . . .
William Manchester, The Glory and the Dream.
. . . as it turned out—
Martin Gregor-Dellin, Richard Wagner: His Life, His Work, His Century.
. . .seemed to admire Ellsberg.
William Manchester, The Glory and the Dream.
Some had praise for his courage, . . .
K.R. Eissler, Crusaders.
. . . although no one . . .
Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis.
. . . dared to join him publicly or to give him official support.
K.R. Eissler, Crusaders.
This reaction made . . .
E. James Lieberman, Acts of Will.
. . . the President . . .
Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, The Final Days.
. . . furious.
E. James Lieberman, Acts of Will.
I can see him now, and hear his . . .
H.G. Wells, Experiment in Autobiography.
. . . convoluted rhetoric and almost surrealistic thoughts, . . .
Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, The Final Days.
. . . like . . .
Gore Vidal, 1876: A Novel.
. . . Joyce’s Ulysses—strains of presidential consciousness.
Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, The Final Days.
Something had to be done at once.
Joseph Conrad, The Rescue.
But what could . . .
Jean-Denis Bredin, The Affair: The Case of Alfred Dreyfus.
. . . The President’s Men . . .
Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, All The President’s Men.
. . . do? Was not the press outside of the government’s control? The . . .
Jean-Denis Bredin, The Affair: The Case of Alfred Dreyfus.
. . . Administration . . .
Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, The Final Days.
. . . sought to navigate between the imperatives of its foreign policy and those of its domestic policy. What could it do . . .
Jean-Denis Bredin, The Affair: The Case of Alfred Dreyfus.
. . . to appease . . .
Emile Gaboriau, The Honor of the Name.
. . . those screaming treason?
Jean-Denis Bredin, The Affair: The Case of Alfred Dreyfus.
The simple facts of an . . .
Ernest Newman, The Life of Richard Wagner.
. . . intermezzo of the most shameful and insidious kind . . .
Martin Gregor-Dellin, Richard Wagner: His Life, His Work, His Century.
. . . are now known to be as follows.
Ernest Newman, The Life of Richard Wagner.
Several members . . .
Henry Adams, Democracy: An American Novel.
. . . of the President’s . . .
Henry Adams, The Education of Henry Adams.
. . . staff hit . . .
Miguel de Cervantes, Don Quixote.
. . . on the idea of . . .
Henry Adams, Democracy: An American Novel.
. . . sending a message to . . .
Wilkie Collins, A Rogue’s Life.
. . . Mr. Nixon, . . .
Somerset Maugham, Of Human Bondage.
. . . representing the profile . . .
Charles Dickens, Great Expectations.
. . . as "very superficial" and underscoring their belief that the CIA could do a better job. They wrote: "We will meet tomorrow with the head psychiatrist . . . to impress upon him the detail and depth we expect."
William Manchester, The Glory and the Dream.
Thereafter they . . .
Jack London, Created He Them.
. . . arranged a meeting . . .
Anthony Trollope, The Prime Minister.
. . . with the President.
Jack London, The Unparalleled Invasion.
How the . . .
L. Frank Baum, The Emerald City.
. . . attorney for . . .
Elden LaMar, The Clothing Workers In Philadelphia: History of Their Struggles for Union and Security.
. . . the President . . .
Sigmund Freud, The Interpretation of Dreams.
. . . would have liked to have a full record of that meeting!
Elden LaMar, The Clothing Workers In Philadelphia: History of Their Struggles for Union and Security.
In preparing this
Cosima Wagner’s Diaries (Translator’s Introduction).
. . . account of the meeting . . .
Ralph Connor, The Doctor.
. . . the editors . . .
Mark Twain, Roughing It.
. . . had to contend with a number of . . .
Cosima Wagner’s Diaries (Translator’s Introduction).
. . . transcript pages . . .
Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, The Final Days.
. . . which have been blocked out in . . .
Cosima Wagner’s Diaries (Translator’s Introduction).
. . . the original manuscript . . .
The Diary of Richard Wagner: The Brown Book — 1865-1882 (editor’s introduction).
. . . to prevent disclosure of the truth;
Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, The Final Days.
. . . presumably.
Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness.
The quality of the ink used in these . . .
Cosima Wagner’s Diaries (Translator’s Introduction).
. . . censorship . . .
Sigmund Freud, The Interpretation of Dreams.
. . . operations leaves no doubt that they were performed at some later date, but by whom is an unsolved question.
Cosima Wagner’s Diaries (Translator’s Introduction).
Mr. Nixon thoroughly disapproved . . .
Somerset Maugham, Of Human Bondage.
. . . of proceeding with . . .
Charles Dickens, Dombey and Son.
. . . any action, . . .
Edgar B.P. Darlington, The Circus Boys in Dixie Land.
. . . but his staff . . .
Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Ambitious Guest.
. . . urged him to . . .
Wilkie Collins, The Evil Genius.
. . . carry it out.
Edgar B.P. Darlington, The Circus Boys on the Mississippi.
They then crossed the line into contemplation of criminal activity. "In this connection," they continued, "we would recommend that a covert operation be undertaken . . . ”
William Manchester, The Glory and the Dream.
. . . in stealthy haste . . .
Richard Wagner, Gotterdammerung.
. . . to examine all the medical files still held by Ellsberg's psychiatrist . . .
William Manchester, The Glory and the Dream.
—and discover, as far as opportunity allows, whether there is . . .
William Shakespeare, Hamlet (Modern English Version).
. . . something in those files, something that . . .
Kristine Williams, When The Stars Walk Backwards.
. . . would serve as a . . .
Richard Wagner, My Life.
. . . weapon that . . .
Henrik Ibsen, An Enemy of the People.
. . . might be . . .
H.G. Wells, A Moonlight Fable.
. . . good enough to attack him with.
Henrik Ibsen, An Enemy of the People.
The President . . .
Robert Ludlum, The Parsifal Mosaic.
. . . cut off the discussion. “No, no, no,” he said, his voice rising.
Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, The Final Days.
It’s insanity!
Robert Ludlum, The Prometheus Deception.
In the foregoing . . .
Cosima Wagner’s Diaries (Friday, February 9, 1883) (editors’ emendation).
. . . the offensive word . . .
Anthony Trollope, The Prime Minister.
. . . sanitized . . .
The Oxford English Dictionary.
. . . has been . . .
Cosima Wagner’s Diaries (Friday, February 9, 1883) (editors’ emendation).
. . . inked over . . .
Leo Tolstoy, Resurrection.
. . . with the word . . .
Somerset Maugham, Of Human Bondage.
. . . insanity.
Jack London, The People of the Abyss.
With the help of various chemical processes . . .
Cosima Wagner’s Diaries (Translator’s Introduction).
. . . the editors . . .
Mark Twain, Roughing It.
. . . succeeded in bringing most of the obliterated passages . . .
Cosima Wagner’s Diaries (Translator’s Introduction).
. . . in the . . .
Wilkie Collins, The Evil Genius.
. . . tapes, transcripts, and notes of . . .
Janet Malcolm, Psychoanalysis: The Impossible Professions.
. . . Nixon’s . . .
Mark Twain, Christian Science.
. . . six-year . . .
Janet Malcolm, Psychoanalysis: The Impossible Professions.
. . . Presidency . . .
International Psychoanalytic Association Newsletter.
. . . back to light, and they are now included in the text with an identification.
Cosima Wagner’s Diaries (Translator’s Introduction).
Have you lost your . . .
Richard Wagner, Gotterdammerung.
[left blank]
Cosima Wagner’s Diaries (Sunday, February 11,1883) (editors’ emendation).
. . . senses?
Richard Wagner, Gotterdammerung.
Let us be silent, let us be silent . . .
Richard Wagner, Letter to Judith Gautier.
. . . said the President, . . .
Robert Ludlum, The Parsifal Mosaic.
. . . nothing, not a single word of this disastrous business must be made public.
Henrik Ibsen, An Enemy of the People.
Leave it unrevealed!—
Richard Wagner, Parsifal.
Added at the bottom of the page:
Cosima Wagner’s Diaries (Sunday, February 4, 1883) (editors’ emendation).
. . . the reader might be overwhelmed by the tone and ignore the substantive support for the President’s version.
Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, The Final Days.
From what I can gather, . . .
Robert Ludlum, The Parsifal Mosaic.
. . . Ellsberg had been psychoanalyzed . . .
William Manchester, The Glory and the Dream.
. . . for several years;
Edgar Rice Burroughs, The Mucker.
. . . a couple of Government . . .
Zane Grey, The Young Forester.
. . . agents had attempted to grill. . .
William Manchester, The Glory and the Dream.
. . . Mr. Fielding, . . .
Horatio Alger, Cast Upon the Breakers.
. . . the psychiatrist, but he had demurred, invoking the sanctity of the doctor-patient relationship.
William Manchester, The Glory and the Dream.
And there it stood.
John Le Carre, The Night Manager.
Let us remember that . . .
Friedrich Nietzsche, The Case of Wagner.
A physician has . . . to possess . . . the subtlety of an agent of police or an advocate in comprehending the secrets of the soul without betraying them —
Friedrich Nietzsche, Human, All Too Human.
How much did . . .
Martin Gregor-Dellin, Richard Wagner: His Life, His Work, His Century.
. . . the President . . .
Robert Ludlum, The Parsifal Mosaic.
. . . suspect or know?
Martin Gregor-Dellin, Richard Wagner: His Life, His Work, His Century.
“To be honest, I have no idea. I believe the . . .
Robert Ludlum, The Prometheus Deception.
. . . full extent of the . . .
Charles Darwin, Origin of Species.
. . . operation was . . .
Henry James, Confidence.
. . . concealed from him
Alexandre Dumas, The Three Musketeers.
Partly to protect the president from knowing too much about wet work and other sordid business, to provide him with plausible deniability . . .
Robert Ludlum, The Prometheus Deception.
. . . in the face of . . .
Henry James, In the Cage.
. . . the powers and limitations . . .
Oliver Wendell Holmes, The Guardian Angel.
. . . inherent in the constitution . . .
Karen Horney, New Ways in Psychoanalysis.
. . . that is, . . .
Henry James, In the Cage.
. . . the restrictions . . .
Somerset Maugham, Of Human Bondage.
. . . inherent in the office.
Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, The Final Days.
That’s standard operating procedure in intelligence outfits worldwide. And partly, I’m sure, because the president is considered by the permanent intelligence community to be a mere tenant of the White House. A renter. He moves in for four years, maybe eight if he’s lucky, buys new china, redecorates, hires and fires, gives a bunch of speeches, . . .
Robert Ludlum, The Prometheus Deception.
. . . and large dinner-parties, . . .
Jane Austen, Emma.
. . . and then he’s gone. Whereas the spies remain. They’re the permanent Washington, the true inheritors.”
Robert Ludlum, The Prometheus Deception.
It . . .
Sigmund Freud, The Ego and the Id.
. . . is very difficult for Americans—who are, on the whole, accustomed to open and direct dealing—to give full weight to this . . .
Raymond A. Bauer, Alex Inkeles, & Clyde Kluckhohn, How the Soviet System Works.
. . . principle of preservation . . .
Charles Darwin, Origin of Species.
. . . as I call it.
Anthony Trollope, The Last Chronicle of Barset.
Perhaps only those who have had fairly intimate and sustained contact with . . .
Raymond A. Bauer, Alex Inkeles, & Clyde Kluckhohn, How the Soviet System Works.
. . . the underground ways . . .
Richard Wagner, ‘The Capitulation’ (sketch for a planned farce).
. . . of secret intelligence . . .
Edith Wharton, The Reef.
. . . have a picture that approaches imaginative reality. The deviousness of behavior, the disposition to “read between the lines” and to interpret the acts of others at several different levels, the whole system of wheels within wheels—all of this is so foreign to American experience and psychology that it is all too easy to laugh it off as “E. Phillips Oppenheim stuff.”
Raymond A. Bauer, Alex Inkeles, & Clyde Kluckhohn, How the Soviet System Works.
As for the evidence . . .
Wilkie Collins, The Law and the Lady.
Well, I say, . . .
Jack London, At the End of the Rainbow.
. . . it’s not . . .
John Galsworthy, Beyond.
. . . like the overture of an opera in which all the themes are announced.
Janet Malcolm, Psychoanalysis: The Impossible Profession.
Explaining the origin of . . .
David Berlinski, Has Darwin Met His Match?
. . . covert operations . . .
Robert Ludlum, The Parsifal Mosaic.
. . . by an appeal to . . .
David Berlinski, Has Darwin Met His Match?
. . . tangible evidence . . .
Jack London, Burning Daylight.

. . . is rather like explaining the origin of Don Quixote by an appeal to the physical properties of ink and paper.
David Berlinski, Has Darwin Met His Match?
The functional importance of the . . .
Sigmund Freud, The Ego and the Id.
. . . the presidential office . . .
Ronald C. White, Jr., Lincoln’s Greatest Speech: The Second Inaugural.
. . . in this field . . .
William Shakespeare, Coriolanus.
. . . is manifested in the fact that normally control over . . .
Sigmund Freud, The Ego and the Id.
. . .domestic-intelligence-gathering activities by the FBI, the CIA and military intelligence units. . .
Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, The Final Days.
. . . devolves upon it. Thus in . . .
Sigmund Freud, The Ego and the Id.
. . . the President’s . . .
Robert Ludlum, The Parsifal Mosaic.
. . . relation to . . .
Sigmund Freud, The Ego and the Id.
. . . covert operations . . .
Robert Ludlum, The Parsifal Mosaic.
. . . he is . . .
Anthony Trollope, The Last Chronicle of Barset.
. . . like a man on horseback, who has to hold in check the superior strength of the horse; with this difference, that the rider tries to do so with his own strength while the . . .
Sigmund Freud, The Ego and the Id.
. . . President of the United States . . .
Robert Ludlum, The Parsifal Mosaic.
. . . uses borrowed forces. The analogy may be carried a little further. Often a rider, if he is not to be parted from his horse, is obliged to guide it where it wants to go; so in the same way . . .
Sigmund Freud, The Ego and the Id.
. . . the President . . .
Robert Ludlum, The Parsifal Mosaic.
. . . is in the habit of transforming the . . .
Sigmund Freud, The Ego and the Id.
. . . intelligence community’s . . .
James Risen, Probe Faults CIA on 9/11 Terrorist.
. . . will into action as if it were . . .
Sigmund Freud, The Ego and the Id.
. . . his own.
Anthony Trollope, The Last Chronicle of Barset.
But then . . .
Somerset Maugham, Of Human Bondage.
. . . as the saying goes, . . .
H.G. Wells, The War of the Worlds.
. . . the President . . .
Robert Ludlum, The Parsifal Mosaic.
. . . is not master in . . .
Sigmund Freud, A Difficulty in the Path of Psycho-Analysis.
. . . his . . .
Sigmund Freud, The Ego and the Id (editor’s note).
. . . own house.
Sigmund Freud, A Difficulty in the Path of Psycho-Analysis.
Chief’s orders . . .
John Le Carre, The Night Manager.
. . . were to . . .
Joseph Conrad, The Secret Agent.
. . . use undercover operatives with no White House ties, . . .
William Manchester, The Glory and the Dream.
. . . to break into . . .
Jack London, The People of the Abyss.
. . . the office of Daniel Ellsberg’s psychiatrist . . .
Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, The Final Days.
. . . and tell them . . .
William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
. . . the job . . .
Edgar B.P. Darlington, The Circus Boys on the Flying Rings.
. . . concerned a traitor who was passing information to the Soviet embassy. Except for the fact that the Russians subscribe to the New York Times, this was untrue.
William Manchester, The Glory and the Dream.
How much, to repeat, did . . .
Martin Gregor-Dellin, Richard Wagner: His Life, His Work, His Century.
. . . the President . . .
Robert Ludlum, The Parsifal Mosaic.
. . . know of all this?
Martin Gregor-Dellin, Richard Wagner: His Life, His Work, His Century.
As always—
Henry James, The Ambassadors.
. . . the short answer is that we don’t know.
Think Tank: A Few Questions, Mr. Shakespeare.
The President . . .
Henry Adams, The Education of Henry Adams.
. . . liked the passage from Nietzsche that . . .
Peter Gay, Freud: A Life for Our Time.
. . . the Secretary of State . . .
Joseph Conrad, The Secret Agent.
. . . quoted to him: “ ‘I did this,’ says my Memory. ‘I cannot have done this,’ says my Pride and remains inexorable. In the end—memory yields.”
Peter Gay, Freud: A Life for Our Time.
As to the moral part of his character, . . .
Alexandre Dumas, Ten Years Later.
. . . the President, . . .
Henry Adams, The Education of Henry Adams.
. . . as a matter of routine, . . .
Jack London, The Sea Wolf.
. . . Amalgamated . . .
Elden LaMar, The Clothing Workers In Philadelphia: History of Their Struggles for Union and Security.
. . . Fiction and Truth.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Fiction and Truth.
In Nixon the . . .
Bruce Mazlish, In Search of Nixon: A Psychohistorical Inquiry.
. . . good reasons . . .
Peter Gay, Freud: A Life for Our Time.
. . . and the . . .
Somerset Maugham, Of Human Bondage.
. . . real reasons . . .
Peter Gay, Freud: A Life for Our Time.
. . . would embrace . . .
H.G. Wells, A Moonlight Fable.
. . . interlace, part and unite; like a dance.
The Diary of Richard Wagner 1865-1882 — The Brown Book.
The subject . . .
Joe Klein, The Running Mate.
. . . of covert . . .
William Shakespeare, Measure for Measure.
. . . action had been . . .
Edith Wharton, The Age of Innocence.
. . . broached gingerly . . .
Joe Klein, The Running Mate.
. . . darkly, . . .
Richard Wagner, Gotterdammerung.
. . . and almost as a . . .
Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace.
. . . bothersome subplot of the greater drama, the quest to get . . .
Joe Klein, The Running Mate.
. . . the President’s . . .
Henry Adams, The Education of Henry Adams.
. . . political . . .
Robert Ludlum, The Parsifal Mosaic.
. . . future squared away.
Joe Klein, The Running Mate.
Whatever the . . .
Henry Adams, The Education of Henry Adams.
. . . President knew . . .
Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, The Final Days.
. . . the order of the acts . . .
Boris Pasternak, Dr. Zhivago (Excerpt from “Hamlet”).
. . . had been . . .
William Shakespeare, Hamlet.
. . . schemed and plotted,
And nothing . . .
Boris Pasternak, Dr. Zhivago (Excerpt from “Hamlet”).
. . . could . . .
William Shakespeare, Hamlet.
. . . avert the final curtain’s fall.
Boris Pasternak, Dr. Zhivago (Excerpt from “Hamlet”).
In the end, . . .
Edgar B.P. Darlington, The Circus Boys Across the Continent.
. . . the President . . .
Robert Ludlum, The Parsifal Mosaic.
. . . would be forced to . . .
Somerset Maugham, Of Human Bondage.
. . . stand alone . . .
Boris Pasternak, Dr. Zhivago (Excerpt from “Hamlet”).
. . . on the political stage, . . .
Alexandre Dumas, The Black Tulip.
. . . accountable for the . . .
Charles Dickens, Hard Times.
. . . deeds of others.
Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy.
The attorney for . . .
Elden LaMar, The Clothing Workers In Philadelphia: History of Their Struggles for Union and Security.
. . . the President . . .
Robert Ludlum, The Parsifal Mosaic.
. . . later described . . .
Booth Tarkington, Penrod.
. . . Nixon as a stage manager . . .
Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, The Final Days.
—nothing more!
John Galsworthy, The Dark Flower.
. . . of a run of rehearsals for a play he had failed to take part in.
John Le Carre, The Night Manager.
It is plain that denial and hypocrisy . . .
K.R. Eissler, Discourse on Hamlet and HAMLET.
. . . two qualities that are present . . .
LuxSonor Semiconductors, Inc., The LuxSonor LS188.
. . . in every individual . . .
Sigmund Freud, Civilization and Its Discontents.
. . . are also . . .
Charles Darwin, Origin of Species.
. . . the very foundations of society
K.R. Eissler, Discourse on Hamlet and HAMLET.
To take an analogy from . . .
Sigmund Freud, An Outline of Psychoanalysis.
. . . psychoanalysis—
Leonard Garment, Crazy Rhythm.
We see the ego, Freud wrote, "as a poor thing, which is in threefold dangers: from the external world, from the libido of the id, and from the severity of the superego." Exposed to anxieties corresponding to these dangers, the ego, for Freud, is a beleaguered, far from omnipotent negotiator earnestly trying to mediate among the forces that threaten it and that war with one another. It labors to make the id tractable to the pressures of the world and of the superego, and at the same time tries to persuade the world and the superego to comply with the id's wishes. Since it stands midway between id and reality, the ego is in danger of "succumbing to the temptation of becoming sycophantic, opportunistic, and mendacious, rather like a statesman who, with all his good insights, still wants to keep himself in the favor of public opinion."
Peter Gay, Freud: A Life for Our Time.

Ancient Stones

In 1978 I made a trip to Rome. Rome, Italy. Not Rome, New York. I had wanted to visit Rome since childhood. I had always been entranced by ancient Rome. A feeling of astonishment mingled with joy always attended my contemplation of books about the ancient city. I had especially wanted to see the Pantheon, an ancient temple in the heart of Rome that is the most perfectly preserved of all ancient Roman structures -- and next to the Coliseum, the most famous. It is made of brick and covered with a huge concrete dome. The exterior of the Pantheon remains much as it always was. The interior, however, was thoroughly looted of its marble, its bronze statues, its precious coffering and ornaments.




For some time after I arrived in Rome I stayed away from the Pantheon. It daunted me, that somber edifice. I preferred to wander in the modern city, imperfect, blaring. The weight and moment of those bricks and mortar promised to make the business of seeing them a complicated one. So much converges there. It's what we've rescued from the madness. Beauty, dignity, order, proportion. There are obligations attached to such a visit.

Then there was the question of its renown. I saw myself walking the rough streets of central Rome, past the discos, the handbag shops, the rows of bamboo chairs. Slowly, out of every bending lane, in waves of color and sound, came tourists in striped sneakers, fanning themselves with postcards, the lovers of Rome, laboring through the streets, vastly unhappy, mingling in one unbroken line to the monumental piazza in front of the Pantheon.

What ambiguity there is in exalted things. We despise them a little.

I kept putting off a visit. The building stood apart from the hissing traffic like some monument to doomed expectations. I'd turn a corner, adjusting my stride among jostling shoppers, there it was, the tanned concrete riding its mass on the concrete of the Piazza San Macuto. I'd dodge a packed bus, there it was, at the edge of my field of vision.

One night (as we enter narrative time) I was riding in a bus back to my hotel after dinner and we, the passengers, seemed to be lost in some featureless zone when the driver made a sharp turn into a one-way street, and there it was again, directly ahead, the Pantheon, floodlit for an event, some holiday or just the summer sound-and-light, floating in the dark, a gray fire of such clarity and precision I was startled into sharp awareness.

We sat there a moment, considering this vision. It was a street in decline, closed shops and demolition, but the buildings at the far end framed the temple perfectly. Someone at the back of the bus said something, then a car came toward us, horn blowing. The driver stuck an arm out the window to gesture. Then his head appeared, he started shouting. The structure hung ahead of us like a star lamp. I gazed a moment longer and the driver proceeded down the street.

I asked the person next to me what the man had called the bus driver.

"Masturbator. It's standard. An Italian will never say anything he hasn't already said a thousand times."

A Monstrous Absurdity: An Experiment in Prose

I am a fugitive from the world of everyday reality. At times, my conscience is oppressed, and expects or makes for itself new oppressions from the world I have left behind but that nonetheless proclaims itself in all its power all around me. In the manifold bustle that fills day and night there is probably not a single task in which I can participate with all my heart, and my failure to venture into anything should not be regarded with the certainty of blame or disdain, or even contempt. There is in this a remarkable peace! It might perhaps be said, to alter a proverb, that a bad conscience, as long as it is bad enough, may almost provide a better pillow on which to rest than a good one: the incessant ancillary activity in which the mind engages with a view to acquiring a good individual conscience as the final outcome of all the injustice in which it is embroiled is then abolished, leaving behind in mind and emotions a hectic independence. A tender loneliness, a sky-high arrogance, sometimes pours their splendor over these holidays from the world, alongside one's own feelings the world can then appear clumsily bloated, like a captive balloon circled by swallows, or mutatis mutandis, humbled to a background as small as a forest at the periphery of one's field of vision. The offended civic obligations echo like a distant and crudely intrusive noise; they are insignificant, if not unreal. A monstrous order, which is in the last analysis nothing but a monstrous absurdity: that is the world. And yet every detail I encounter also has the tensed, high-wire-act nature of the once-and-never again, the nature of discovery, which is magical and admits of no repetitions; and whenever I want to speak of this, I do so in the awareness that no word can be uttered twice without changing its meaning.