After I had learned to say the word I, I had to be addressed as I for a time because I did not know I was meant by the word you, since I was called I; and also, when I already knew the word you I pretended for a time that I did not know who was meant, because I enjoyed not understanding anything; thus I also began to enjoy responding whenever the word you was uttered.
When I did not understand a word I doubled it and doubled it once more, so that it would no longer bother me. I said: war, war; rag, rag. I said: war, war, war, war; rag, rag, rag, rag. Thus I became accustomed to words. Meantime, one of the Kaspars has taken a large file out of his carton and rasped once across the carton. Thereupon he also begins to file on the Kaspar sitting next to him. The sound produced by the filing is of the kind that drives one wild. All the Kaspars wear some kind of material which, if a file, knife, or nail is applied to it, produces all manner of excruciating noises. Up to this point, only one of these noises has been produced, and briefly. The Kaspars might have on their clothing pieces of foam rubber, tin, stone, slate, etc. All these are in the carton. One might also use the noise produced by crumpling the wrapping paper. The noises now become increasingly more frequent and louder because all the Kaspars in back begin to work on the cartons and on each other with their files, knives, slate pencils, nails, fingernails, etc. One by one, they get up and form a tight, wrangling huddle. However, each noise is distinct from the others: none is produced indiscriminately; nor do they drown out the words of Kaspar 1 at the microphone; on the contrary, they make them even more distinct. I first saw only one person. Later, after I had seen this one person, I saw several other persons. That certainly surprised me. I saw something sparkle. Because it sparkled, I wanted to have it. I wanted to have everything that sparkled. Later I also wanted to have what didn’t sparkle. I saw that someone had something. I wanted to have something like it. Later I also wanted to have something. When I woke up I ate. Then I played and also spoke until I fell asleep again and woke up again. Once I put my hands in my pockets and could not pull them out again. Once every object seemed to me to prove something, but what? Once (he tries to swallow) I was unable to swallow. Once (he tries to sneeze) I was unable to sneeze. The sounds become increasingly more ample and prolonged. For instance, one will hear the sound of a door scraping along a stone floor, of a metal bar slipping along a polar bear’s claws in a circus, of a sled running its runners from snow onto gravel, of chalk or a fingernail on slate, of a knife scraping a plate, of people scraping a marble floor with nails in their shoes, of a saw cutting through new wood, of a fingernail scraping across a pane of glass, of cloth tearing, etc. (Leave something to the imagination, but not too much.) As these noises are produced, and as the various objects in the cartons (foam rubber, etc.) are cut up, the Kaspars gradually come to the front of the stage. Once (he tries to yawn) I was unable to yawn. Once — (with effort he tries to speak the following sentence to the end) pursue the others … I caught … no one vanquished … the objects were … I drove … no one caressed … the others stormed … the objects had … no one pushed … I shoved … the others showed … the objects became … I moved … the others ripped … no one lowered … the objects are … the objects have … the others rub … no one hits … I drag … the objects become … no one chokes … the others get … — I was unable to speak a sentence to the end. Once made slip slip … once madip slip slip … once madip slin slin … monce mamin m: m:m … — I made a slip of the tongue, and they all looked at each other. Once I was the only one who laughed. Once I sat down on a fly. Once I heard everyone scream murder! but when I looked I only found a peeled tomato in the garbage can. All at once I distinguished myself from the furnishings. Already with my first sentence I was trapped.
I can make myself understood. I think I must have slept a long time because I am awake now. I go to the table and use the table, but look at that — the table continues to exist after it has been used. I can appear because I know where my place is. I cannot fall asleep with dry hands, but when I spit into my hands they become even drier. By saying: the chair is harmless, it is all over with the chair’s harmlessness. I feel good when the door, having stood open for long, is finally closed. I know where everything belongs. I have a good eye for the right proportion. I don’t put anything into my mouth. I can laugh to three. I am usable. I can hear wood rotting over long distances. I no longer understand anything literally. I cannot wait until I wake up, whereas earlier I could not wait to fall asleep. I have been made to speak. I have been converted to reality. — Do you hear it? (Silence.) Can you hear? (Silence.) Psst. (Silence.)
The stage becomes dark.
Silence.
LXV
As the stage becomes bright once more, the events on stage are again divided into three parts: together with Kaspar’s speech as follows, the prompters come on again. Whispering, they repeat something like this: If only. Own future. Now every second one as opposed to every fourth one at one time. A possible object. If only. Make life easier. If only. Development. If only. In reality. If only. In constantly growing numbers. If only. Serves the. If only. Bears dangers. If only. It is necessary for that. If only. Finally, they repeat over and over again, until the end, speaking softly: If only. If only. If only. Meanwhile, the Kaspars come forward (filing, etc.) and proceed to manhandle the speaking Kaspar with their files, etc. They make particular fun of one object, say a chair, laughing at it, imitating it, costuming it, dragging it off and imitating the sound it makes as it is being dragged across the floor, thus making it utterly ridiculous and making it and all other objects COMPLETELY IMPOSSIBLE. Kaspar 1 has gone on speaking:
I can hear the logs comfortably crackling in the fire, with which I want to say that I do not hear the bones crackling comfortably. The chair stands here, the table there, with which I mean to say that I am telling a story. I would not like to be older, but I would like for much time to have passed, with which I mean to say that a sentence is a monster, with which I mean to say that speaking can help temporarily, with which I mean to say that every object becomes ticklish when I am startled. I say: I can imagine to be everywhere now, except that I cannot imagine really being there, with which I mean to say that the doorknobs are empty. I can say: the air snaps shut, or: the room creaks, or: the curtain jingles, with which I mean to say that I don’t know where I should put or leave my hand, while I when I say that I don’t know where to put my hand mean to say that all doors tempt me only under the pretense that they can be opened, which sentence I would like to use in the sense of: my hair has gotten into the table as into a machine and I am scalped: literally: with each new sentence I become nauseous: figuratively: I have been turned topsy-turvy: I am in someone’s hand: I look to the other side: there prevails an unbloody calm: I cannot rid myself of myself any more: I toss the hat onto the meathook: every stool helps while dying: the furnishings are waterproof: the furniture is as it ought to be: nothing is open: the pain and its end come within sight: time must stop: thoughts become very smalclass="underline" I still experienced myself: I never saw myself: I put up no undue resistance: the shoes fit like gloves: I don’t get away with just a fright: the skin peels off: the foot sleeps itself dead: candles and bloodsuckers: ice and mosquitoes: horses and puss: hoarfrost and rats: eels and sicklebills: