I Love Dick by Chris Kraus Read Free Book Online

embarrassing is to strip the whole intrigue bare, to bring it down to raw desire, like the “…”s in Chris’ story when she imagines making love to you. Does knowledge stand for “…”? Does it need to be eroticized to find its point? And why should any point be finer than the raw “…”s of our desires? We know what the “…”s stand for. And what does your name stand for, Dick?
    Here is mine, Sylvère
    Crestline, California
    December 11, 1994
    Dear Dick,
    I disagree with Sylvère about your living situation. He thinks that it’s escapist, as if living alone is an evasion of the inevitable coupledom, rejecting life. It’s what parents say about the childless. But I think your life choices are totally valid, Dick.
    Love,
Chris
    Crestline, California
    December 11, 1994
    Dear Dick,
    Noon. (Already). We’re still waiting for your call. We think we’ll switch now to the conversational mode since all our time between these letters has been spent talking about you anyhow.
    Love,
Chris & Sylvère
    EXHIBIT Ð:   SYLVÈRE AND CHRIS CONVERSE THROUGH SIMULTANEOUS TRANSCRIPTION
    Sunday, December 11, 1994: 12:05 p.m.
    C: Sylvère what’re we gonna do if he doesn’t call? Are we gonna call him?
    S: No, we can continue this without him anyway.
    C: But you’re forgetting that I really want for him to call. I’m tingling all over waiting for the phone to ring. I’ll be really disappointed if he doesn’t call.
    S: Well this time you should talk to him. Why let us two white guys decide the course? I got him in. It’s your turn now.
    C: But I’m afraid he’s not gonna call at all. What then? Do I call him? It’s already feeling like the Frank Zappa song You Didn’t Try And Call Me .
    S: He’ll call, but not today. He’ll call when it’s too late.
    C: Oh Sylvère, I hate that.
    S: But Chris, that’s why he’ll do it that way.
    C: If he doesn’t call today I think I’ll have to disengage. Because, you know, I’ll lose respect. We’ve done so much . All he has to do is call.
    S: But maybe he’ll realize we’ve already done everything in his place. Why disturb it?
    C: I disagree. He should be curious. If some one called me and said they’d written 50, 60, 70 pages about me overnight I’d definitely be curious. You know, Sylvère, I think if this whole Dick thing falls through I’ll go to Guatemala City. I have to do something with my life.
    S: But Chris. The Antelope Valley is Guatemala.
    C: I’ll just be so disappointed if he doesn’t call. How can you continue loving someone who doesn’t pass this first and really basic test?
    S: What test? The adultery test?
    C: Nooo. The first test is to call.
    Since their telephone has call-waiting, Chris phones her unshockable friend Ann Rower in New York.
    TEN MINUTES LATER —
    S: What did Ann think?
    C: Ann thought it was a great project, more perverse than just having an affair. She thinks it’d make a good book! When Dick calls shall we tell him we’re considering publication?
    S: No. The murder hasn’t happened yet. Desire’s still unconsummated. Let the media wait.
    C: (whining) Whyyyyyyy??
    SEVEN HOURS LATER —
    C: Look Sylvère, this’s hopeless. We’re leaving in two days and I can’t think past this phone call. I got a fax this afternoon from a producer who wants to see my film. I didn’t even read it. Maybe it’s already thrown away.
    (Pause)
    It’s an impossible situation! I don’t even know what I want from Dick anymore. Nothing good can come of this. The only thing I’m thankful for is that it’s not the ’70s and I didn’t already fuck him. You know that anguish? Waiting by the phone until the burn and torment finally goes away? Our only hope is for some resumption of our normal lives. What seemed so daring just looks juvenile