Me

Doe, a deer, a female deer
Ray, a drop of golden sun

Me, a name I call the rational, conscious part of my brain. Freud called this the ego, or self. So what are the parts of me that aren't me? Do my subconscious thoughts share my existance, or just interact with it? Can I (being »me«) assume responsibility for the uncontrolled actions of my id and superego? And if this is »me«, then who the hell are »you«?

'Me! I stay here of course. I always do.'

They were asking what I think about me. But I was afraid of what they would do with the information if I gave it to them. In truth, I was afraid to discover it myself, too. So I probably prevaricated for a while, pretending to tie my shoelace, check the timetable I always carry for such moments – yes, such a challenge *was scheduled but they are never usually on time – and enquired of one, whether we could have met before, at such-and-such a conference or interview. After a bit of this, the atmosphere changed. I could teleport, or I could try and cooperate, as we all wanted. Me, I said. I think it's gone astray.

Tell me the truth about me and you!!

Here's me writing on a coupon
the value of me in book form
made strange to a handtowel
nakedly without goods
an angel told me through pads
through a screen the angel
of speech was me

I am, therefore I am. Me Myself and I.

The other day, someone  – the late Wittgenstein, actually, via a newspaper – told me that I couldn't have a private language/conversation, or any kind of life really, until I had been sufficiently 'used'. Well, I've been feeling very 'used' of late, so here I am: Me – approved used (as they say in the VW advert) – so who's going to start a private conversation with me? Lots of philosophical jokes guaranteed!!

It's all about me.
It's not all about me.
Take your pick.

I finally found that the force at the center of the universe is not me.