My flat.
You have an optimistic and trusting nose, Priya says.
How can you tell? I ask. What have noses got to do with anything?
You can see everything in the nose, Priya says. And the chin. And in the shape of the eyes. And you have such kind fingers, though your thumb looks rather stubborn.
Is this how lovers talk? I ask.
It’s been too long, Priya says.
What about with your husband? I ask.
That was years ago, Priya says. I’m not sure I want to remember.
Was there a honeymoon period? I ask.
There’s always a honeymoon period, Priya says. Then there’s a humdrum period. Then there’s a blue period – a fifteen-years-together-and-what-for? period.
And what period are you in now? I ask.
The illicit period, Priya says.
Priya, examining herself in the mirror. I’m the sort of person you ought to loathe, philosopher, Priya says. So why don’t you? You’ve invited the enemy in. You’re betraying yourself. And your people. And philosophy. And everything.
Maybe it’s my revenge, I say.
On what? On organisational management? Priya asks. Because I’m the head of department’s wife … I see it … This is your way of lobbing a grenade into the enemy camp … Well, maybe.
He doesn’t seem like a bad guy, your husband, I say. I like way he dresses – his three piece suit. It gives him some distinction. Is that why you went for him?
The question is why I went for you, Priya says.
I suppose you’ve had a series of lovers, I say. I suppose he likes it.
No, actually, Priya says. Nothing like that.
And his northern accent, I say. And his easy going manner. He seems very affable.
He is affable, Priya says. He’s really very nice.
And there’s the management style of your husband, I say. The organisational management style …
My husband thought it was a good idea, bringing philosophy into organisation management …, Priya says. Exploring synergies …
And you can say that with a straight face? I say. You can repeat those things? Anyway, they made him do it.
They did make him do it, Priya says. But he has a good attitude, unlike you. I know you’re sneering.
Where are you going to tell him you were this afternoon? I ask. How are you going to account for yourself?
I’ll say I was at the gym, as usual, Priya says. At exercise class.
Does he suspect? I ask. Surely he must suspect. He must have some sense that your mind’s elsewhere. And your body …
My body’s not elsewhere, Priya says. I fuck him too.
You’re so shameless, I say.
I am, aren’t I? Priya says. How can she do this to her husband?: that’s what you’re thinking. But I like doing this to my husband. It feels right to be doing this to my husband.
Why do you never call him by name? I ask.
Because he’s essentially anonymous, Priya says. Because he’s a force. Because he’s a collection of husband drives. Anyway, I don’t want to think about him …
Silence.
But there’s a reason we’re here, isn’t there? Priya says. Are you waiting to get down to it? For the real business to start? You’ll have to court me first. Compliment me on what I’m wearing. Tell me I have … sparkling eyes. Notice my new hairstyle. I haven’t actually got a new hairstyle, but you get the idea. I want to hear some sweet nothings. Some sweet philosophical nothings, if necessary. I want to be re-seduced. I want to be seduced all over again.
Win me. Win my heart, philosopher, Priya says. I want to feel like the most important girl in the world. Make it all about me. That no one matters to you but me. Come on, complement me on my outfit. On what I’m wearing. On my earrings, for fuck’s sake. I’m wearing pearl earrings …
I do think you’re beautiful, I say.
Beautiful, philosopher? Priya says. What do you mean by beauty?
You today. Your face touched with light, I say. The fascination of your eyes. Of my being looked at, by those eyes. Of those eyes, turning towards me.
That’s more like it, Priya says. Continue.
You can make things happen – just by your presence, I say. People are shaken out of themselves. Reminded …
Of what? Priya says.
Of the fact that beauty is alive, I say. Of the fact that beauty can pass through the earth. The fact that beauty can arrive here, in this town, on these streets. The fact that miracles are possible and the world really can be overturned.
Oh, you’re good at this, Priya says.
Beauty: is proof that God exists, after all, I say. That we’re not all doomed, after all. That we’re not all destroyable, replaceable, murderable, strangleable, chokeable, shootable, stabbable.
Now you’re going dark, Priya says.
You like it dark, I say. It’s a relief from all that organisational management optimism. All that can do. All that manage-the-world bullshit.
And philosophy’s unmanageable, I suppose, Priya says. Philosophy’s totally exceptional. Philosophy’s a tiger …
When did Organisational Managers become a thing? I ask. Where did this subject area come from? Isn’t it just business studies?
It’s part of business studies, Priya says. Or business studies is a part of it, depending on your perspective.
And what does it think it can organise? I ask. What’s the latest in organisational management?
My husband’s into decentralised managerialism, Priya says. That’s the cutting edge.
Wow, I say.
Like self-organising stuff, Priya says.
And are there organisational managers in real life, or just in the academy? I ask.
Sure, people wo run companies …, Priya says.
And do real organisational managers read academic organisational managers? I ask. Seriously. I want to know.
Just because your subject’s ancient and prestigious and totally useless, Priya says. I’ll have you know that my husband’s quite the consultant. He flies back and forth to Albania, to advise them on the latest managerial theories …
Lucky Albania, I say.
So snobbish, Priya says.. Just because your subject’s ancient and prestigious and totally useless …
Who are the organisational managers organisational managers? Who are the big names? I ask.
Stop being so sarcastic, Priya says. It’s not all about top-down taking charge, you know. It’s about … managerialism, old style … It’s about fostering a self-starting culture. Entrepreneurship …
What happens to organisational management, in the bedroom – that’s the question, I say. Does organisational management ever allow a bit of disorganisation? Does organisational management ever permit a bit of slack? Does organisational management know its limits? When to hold itself back. Is it like, For everything else, there’s organisational management …?
There’s time for everything, in organisational management, Priya says.
For holidays, you mean, I say. For quality time. Which leave you refreshed for work next day. Which help make you a productive worker … Work’s the thing, isn’t it? Productivity?
So? Priya says.
Work used to be understood negatively, I say. As negotium, where the ‘ne’ means not. Otium was the thing: contemplation.
Wow, listen to Etymology Boy, Priya says.
Contemplation came first, I say. Work just meant suspending contemplation.
So people just, like, contemplated all day? Priya says. Sounds dreary.
People thought, maybe, I say. People wondered about things. Asked questions without obvious answers. A bit like us, maybe.
What about philosophy in the bedroom?: that’s what I want to know, Priya says.
Me, pulling Philosophy in the Bedroom from the bookshelf.
The Marquis de Sade, Priya says. Oh this is going to be porn …
It’s mostly just discussion about freedom, I say.
And porn! Priya says. This is filthy … you philosophers are perverts … There’s not much contemplation here. But there’s a lot of ejaculation …
Lying back.
What’s the rest of the world doing, while we’re doing this? Priya asks.
The rest of the world’s busy, I say.
I’m tired of … busy, Priya says.
Silence.
Time doesn’t seem to matter here, does it? Priya says. It doesn’t flow at the usual speed. It doesn’t flow at all, really. Isn’t it supposed to whizz by when you’re having fun?
Aren’t you having fun? I ask.
I don’t think fun’s the word … , Priya says. It’s like we’ve got lost in the afternoon and we’ll never get out. Like we’re lost in the afternoon maze.
Are you looking for an exit? I ask.
I think want to get more deeply lost, Priya says.
Silence.
What does all this add up to? Priya asks. Our days together. Our affair. What does it mean?
Why does it have to mean anything? I ask.
You’re the philosopher – you tell me, Priya says. I mean, what did we just do? In the middle of the day. In the middle of the universe … Look at us, lying around. In disarray. Are we allowed to be like this? Are we allowed to do this?
We can do what we like, I say.
Should we be allowed to do what we like: I suppose that’s what I’m asking, Priya says.
Who’s stopping us? I ask.
The light on the floor, Priya says. That beams through the skylight … The quivering light. What is it?
Light, just light, I say.
I think it’s God, Priya says.
God? I say.
I think it’s all we know of God, Priya says. A quality of light. A patch of light. Is God watching us?
No one’s watching, I say. Unless your husband’s on the roof.
God’s watching, Priya says. That’s the thing … I like using the word, God, philosopher. I feel like I’m allowed to use the word, God, here.
Do you believe in God? I ask.
I think God believes in me, Priya says. I think I’m a dream in the mind of God.
So God’s dreaming all this, I say. God’s dreaming you and dreaming me.
Maybe – why not? I say.
Why not anything? Priya says. We’re contemplating, aren’t we?
Sure – why not anything, I say. And we are contemplating. It's otium, baby.
Questions, philosopher, questions …, Priya says. I feel I’m just … falling. And you, too – you’re falling, too.
Falling in love? I ask.
Contemplating love, Priya says. We’re holding it at a distance, and looking at it. We’re far from love, just like we’re far from everything …
It’s like something’s taking place through us, Priya says. Despite us, almost. Against us, maybe. Some kind of event – or non-event. Something that’s not happening. That’s subtracting happening from happening.
I feel so vague, Priya says. Do you feel vague? Are we supposed to feel like this? Like, we can’t think anything. Anything clear, anyway. Anything precise …
And you’re not going to save me – I know that, Priya says. You’re not going to break my fall. You’re not going to do anything.
You don’t need saving, I say.
What do I need? Priya asks. What do I want? What am I doing here? I’m falling, philosopher. When I close my eyes, I get vertigo … Why do I come out here? Why do I feel these things? It’s like you’ve cast some spell over me. Like you want to keep me here forever. But I think a spell’s been cast over you, too.
If I fell asleep now, what would happen? Priya asks. If I fell asleep and woke up … If I … If I … I can’t even finish a sentence. It’s being drunk without being drunk. Fuck, I can’t think a single clear thing …
I kinda want to get dressed and go, Priya says. I kinda want to drive off home. I kinda want to actually go to the gym instead of pretending at the gym … Anything except this. But then I like this …
If I fell asleep now, what would happen? Priya asks. If I just stayed here forever …
Are we meditating, or something? Priya asks. Are we praying or something? And to who? Who’s listening? Who’s watching? God? Is it God?
Work in Progress 