Rallentando  

Where ‘P’ stands for ‘paranoia’ and ‘major’ means both ‘big’ and ‘more positive than not’ — ‘paranoia’ meaning, for the purposes of this fantasia: ‘a mental state characterised by systematised delusions or (metonymically) those delusions themselves’.

Lusigando

Everything you do has one of two kinds of effect: either it gets lost in statistics (and has thereby the effect of ‘helping things along’); or, an anomalous point of resistance, it produces turbulence (which though easily forgotten, is never entirely lost).

Impetuoso

Throw a handful of grit underarm into a pond, From first impacts to last, it is like a biting down of the future on the present. Yet the resultant turbulence is, remains, and lingers.  And there not being enough people doing that any more, it doesn’t get subsumed.

Animato

“How so?” “A child saw me do it.” “And what if she, he, or it hadn’t seen you? What if only a mallard, coot, or moorhen had seen you?” “I would, in any case, have seen myself doing it.” “Bullshit.” “Yes, ‘bullshit’ betokening the irritating bit of grit in your eye now — your eye qua one of the many of the myriad-eyed Averager-Out.” “Oh go and fuck yourself!”

Ostinato

And she was right: that wasn’t the way. So I went to a demonstration where, almost without let-up, the demonstrators were using phones and apps for the obtainment and continued use of which they, the demonstrators, had paid and were continually and, indeed, continuously paying (and not just with money) commercial entities whose involvement in what they, the demonstrators, were demonstrating against was so ‘of the essence’ that, understanding as much, I suddenly saw before me a sky-high multicoloured wall of (for want of a better word) anti-significance which, not knowing how else to confront it, I tried banging my head against only to discover it was spongy. 

Stringendo

“Go home and get drunk!” I tell myself, envisioning that bottle of mescal you gave me in hopes, I imagine, of it sending me into a coma. But if there’s one thing I can do, it’s drink. And the following morning, after a half-hour shower, a paracetamol, and some hair of the dog, I have the bright idea of filling the void left behind by those adorably outré bird drones [https://en.wikipedia,org/wiki/Birds_Aren%27t_Real], with spider-bots.

Andantino

Only I quickly see that it would make no difference — that They/It already know(s) everything about us as it is.

Parlando

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” I write in pink lipstick on the bathroom mirror. ‘Like Nietzsche’s nihilism,’ I think or maybe say — but, in any case, don’t write. ‘Cross this and you’re on the other side!’ I say (or think). ‘OK, OK, OK; let’s venture the first step — but feelingly, feelingly…’

Delicato

If they know everything about us and everybody knows that they know everything about us, then setting aside the fact that it’s no longer a question of a ‘delusion’ (unless it’s a mass delusion)

Flessibile

And yet there’s this mode of the world — this ‘face this way’ — where no-one can talk about what everybody knows… With which I’m back to that again: the sky-high multicoloured and spongy wall of anti-significance.

Allegretto

And she says.”Not musical enough.” “How do you mean?” I want to know, “Not A-B-A enough,” she asserts. “The sky-high wall bit is from the middle. You’ve returned not to the beginning but to the middle.” “Yes, but this conversation you’ve so kindly and, indeed, helpfully got going again is from somewhere near the beginning.” “Oh,” she says — and disappears.

Inquieto

Leaving me all alone — just when I was going to tell her, no, not that I loved her but that anyway the whole idea of a fantasia is that you can do what the fuck you like with it. Which is just as well, because as for the key of P for paranoia: what is it exactly nowadays paranoia?