It got so bad I started reading any tale of the sea I could find, I'm sure it's an apt metaphor for something. All that's required is enough grog and sauerkraut, to ride out the doldrums. Any time we sight land it turns out to be simply one more trading station stocked with the same hard tack and whale blubber as the last. The search for some beyond is hopeless. I now realise that being marooned is not a liminal moment between life and narrative. But neither is it an escape from the coding reality. The implicit exoticism of Bataille is only redemptive in that he does not perceive that his prior condition is simply a function of a failed revolution. Maybes.