OK. I will wave the white flag. And I'll try to argue my surrender has nothing to do with any wimpy-ness on my part, or fear of Grocery Store encounters, or boiling head syndrome, or Tic. Nor do I want you to think my surrender follows after some form of enhanced interrogation technique on the Rabbit's part. Rather, I have endured everything I am prepared to throw at myself, and after last night's long conversation with Walking Stewart he has agreed to merge briefly with the oneness on the understanding that my conclusion brings out the shine in Pythagorean thought, and, so long as I take care to offer detailed accounts of the Rabbit's horribleness.
And I guess there are some who when they attempt an account of their own
existence, their Ecce Homo, if you like, have some sort of control over the
course of what the technical device calls 510,643 words. A summation
so callous I can feel my heart break. And grudgingly I can understand the
importance of structure, when the Rabbit of Usk shrugs off his sulk and now
begins to insist it is his turn to take the lead, otherwise anarchy and
unwarranted innuendo, some of it very risky, will reduce me to a gibbering
wreck, a chaotic pile of confused inconsequence. And of course The
Rabbit's first words to me after the months of his silence had to be a quote
from the Anglo Saxon Chronicles. "You're like William the Second,"
he said to me, "hateful to almost all your people and odious to God." An
un-auspicious reemergence, I'd suggest.