When I arrived home at about 1am Sunday morning after a good day in London I began writing an essay about the TARDIS as archaic mother and how she represented the vagina dentata but had been rendered toothless in an attempt to ease male castration anxiety. Something about being a limitless void but one which the male star had complete mastery of.
Two things here are remarkable. One is that my relationship to psychoanalysis isn’t usually this straightforward (I believe that the basic concepts and everything thereafter have evolved because Freud’s theories were popular not because they were right and that they came to be a self fulfilling prophecy of sorts as they altered people’s perceptions of their own way of life) so it felt rather odd to be taking an unequivocally psychoanalytical point of view (however post-post-post-Freudian it was). The second thing is that my enthusiasm for the subject lasted until about 2:30am yesterday (quite an impressive amount of zest) when, after a notebook page of semiconscious doodles and pondering led me to the conclusion that it would take more resources and knowledge than were currently at my disposal, that it would never be read, and that I was very tired.
I’m all for doing things to keep the brain active but this one took me by surprise.