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45 PROSPERITY For฀the฀Real,฀whatever฀upheaval฀we฀subject฀it฀to,฀is฀always฀and฀in฀every฀case฀ in฀its฀place;฀it฀carries฀its฀place฀stuck฀to฀the฀sole฀of฀its฀shoe,฀there฀being฀nothing฀ that฀can฀exile฀it฀from฀it. JACQUES฀LACAN,฀ÉCRITS Turn฀off฀the฀stereo:฀the฀record฀slows฀in฀suave฀turns฀like฀a฀boy who฀knows฀his฀strength.฀Once฀in฀the฀Age฀of฀Vinyl,฀heat warped฀Led฀Zeppelin฀beyond฀salvation.฀The฀rec฀room฀ceiling carpet฀matched฀the฀floor.฀Our฀parents฀wrote฀notes: Please฀excuse฀my฀child฀as฀she฀is฀flying฀to฀Sun฀Valley. Nothing฀mattered.฀We฀jumped฀from฀tree฀to฀tree. Please฀excuse฀my฀child฀as฀she฀is฀simian฀and฀may฀regress to฀an฀earlier฀stage฀of฀evolution.฀My฀friend฀Thompson locked฀himself฀in฀the฀golf฀course฀shed฀with฀a฀revolver. (Please฀excuse฀me฀as฀I’m฀not฀a฀child,฀but฀what’s฀this฀stereo doing฀playing฀all฀scratches฀and฀scars?)฀“Listen,฀loser,” I฀said฀through฀the฀golf฀shed฀door,฀“don’t฀you฀know฀how฀lucky you฀are?”฀But฀there฀were฀no฀meters,฀no฀markers,฀no฀maps. Far฀off฀in฀France,฀Jacques฀Lacan฀sketched฀the฀Real฀in฀dense prose฀meant฀to฀fend฀off฀readers.฀He฀chewed฀his฀handrolled ฀cigarette.฀The฀Real฀is฀the฀state฀of฀nature฀we฀have฀lost by฀our฀fall฀into฀language.฀But฀here’s฀what’s฀weirder: as฀I฀waited฀for฀Thompson,฀I฀held฀my฀own฀hand฀like฀a฀lover, as฀if฀it฀mattered—palm,฀fingers,฀thumb.฀“You’ve฀never฀even had฀sex,”฀I฀hissed,฀and฀he฀dropped฀the฀gun. ...

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