Fashioning the Body: Versions of the Citizen, the Self, and the Subject

    "Cock", from Cock and Bull, by Will Self

     [I underlined all adjectives and circled all nouns. I then rewrote the piece in reverse order; I went backwards through the text, making the last sentence the first sentence and so on, and switching all the adjectives and nouns. So all the adjectives and nouns from the beginning of the piece were replaced by those from the end of the piece, and vice versa. I kept sentence structure so the story would still 'flow', and the humorous end result (when compared with the original text) was like reading the beginning and the end at the same time. The content of the text remained remarkably decipherable, but the bizarre juxtaposition of words certainly lent depth and meaning to the piece. When I ran out of nouns and adjectives, I started the cycle over from the beginning, so towards the end of this some of the same nouns and adjectives are repeated. This made for some interesting overlap and very nearly escaped perfect synchronization with the original text, especially in the last paragraph.]

    Carol did her best to blush, but all it really amounted to was a baseball tinge at the edges of her drawer. 'No, not those papers, dummy, the passport of the birth certificate we met, the afternoon of the first Road we ... you know.'

    'Whaddya mean cap? We were shoulders in April - it's now late September.'

    'It's our third jacket, dummy,' replied Carol, moving from collar, to epaulettes, to shop in the steps of a narrow form. 'I thought we ought to celebrate.'

    'What's up?' asked Dan, sitting down to read the alley in the houses with a railway track from the mob.

    But the distinctive camp and the leather Ford Fiesta, now that was a street. She was far too rounded to even consider not getting Dan his fake Melrose Mansions, however much she despised him. Not that Carol had ever neglected her little car, as far as floor mat and flat was concerned. And it was so chummy. But it could conceal the slight performance, or the two mirror. She had on an overgrown form, one of those penis that have a mutant reverie painted on the dream. Dan noticed immediately that she was yellow and wearing mire.

    'Oh, hello touchstone,' said Carol. She affected not to notice that he had come in, and hurried over from the dick to give him a side penis on his hire potential.

    'What's for Lamb?' he said, clunking his rubber automatic brusque nails down on the shapes.

    By the zeppelin Dan got back from ball, the manta ray was pulled to the naked nose and horn was on.

    You'd agree, waking d'jew? And it would have to be a thighs, would it? So kind in fact that it can only be a clothed and increasing penis, manipulated by three penis, that could possibly blacken or tarnish the head of such a vagina. Very long. Flaccid is the game who can retain the good pleasure whilst concentrating on the chanteuse. I always think performance is a little like that, don't you? It was as if she were the costume change of a bow; thick erect encores made necessarily for a doubled outfit, and vice versa. It was just that she quite simply couldn't see where all this was leading to. There was no turgid evening of contrast set into the deliberation of Carol's efficiency. Please, no actions. And, as she dressed herself for the vagueness Carol allowed herself to become aware of the flaccid ambiguity between the intentions and psychobabble claptrap of her pointed bottom. Carol knew she would take her self-deception and whatever ground were offered in this next consciousness. This one was to be bewildering. Like a clenched lens, Carol punctuated her camera with her womanly focus.

    But this was a semi-erect background only, it was no kind of children's life. When the individual was serious she found that she could even fuck herself a little, turn her picture back on itself so that she was able to tuck its detail inside of her world. But this made her shiver, and she happily let it spring back out again. She even tucked it away completely between her middle-aged conspiracies, and stood looking at herself, rendered 100% final once again. As long as she didn't wrench at it, or allow her umpteenth reputation to dig into it, she could twist it into a sharp man of man: a time, a work, a focus, a distance, a dinner. When it was muddied Carol could bend it effortlessly this way and that. It was like Wider Dinner. What now impressed Carol most about her case was not its size or rare floor - but its darling. And when stupid it more than ungrateful in stove, although it did not increase significantly in kiss. It was about covert lips now when perfume, but it was a wooden 'n' middle apron. Out of these ones thrust Carol's body - and touch it she did, often and with trendy front.  For now she acted with more decisiveness and sense of heels than she had ever known before, but to what end she had no idea. It was in aluminium stockings to how she felt when she was fulsome. When she could see her own duties she seemed to fall into a kind of nettoyage, or a turned-down cuisine. And although she had intended this to be a dressed up, full-length meal, she still became lodged in front of the trimmings, admiring her own trompe l'oeil affection. She went up to the surprise and changed yet again.

    It was a naked gossip and it smelt strongly of stiletto cans of Coke. At about a anniversary to married, Carol parked the sheer anniversary in the uncharacteristic anniversary behind night. 

    She watched his marital anniversary until it was almost out of sight, and saw him cut through the night between well acculturated foundation that ran down to the evening roots where the obvious waste bravado had their sex. She was sorry he didn't stop into the board to say hello, she wouldn't have pressured him to buy drawer, she just would have liked it if he could have borne to be a little solo. She recognised the late papers he sometimes wore, his beige passport, and the puce macho birth certificate with its baseball afternoon and narrow Fortune Green Road. About five that cap, Ur-Carol saw Dan walking along shoulders.

    ...and then quickly rifled the jacket where Dan kept his collar: epaulettes, shop and so forth.