My rabbit is back. This rabbit is the strangest, most tame, rabbit I’ve ever encountered. When I go outside cheesy music from Dances With Wolves begins to play and the rabbit and I intensely regard one another. She refuses to move even when I’m three feet away from her, impetuously chewing her grass with a sense of indifference. Perhaps I’m undergoing some strange Deleuzian “becoming-rabbit”. That doesn’t sound very interesting though. Why does my totem animal have to have cute little ears and a fluffy white tail? I’m like Tyler Durden discovering that my totem is a penguin.
Things aren’t all bad, however. The rabbit– I’ll call her “Two-Socks” in keeping with the Dances With Wolves motif –is a revolutionary rabbit… A real Badiouian subject of truth. Yesterday she dug a little burrow in the middle of my back yard, tearing up all sorts of grass. I would have no truck with this and threw down some blood meal to drive her away. What do I find today? Well there she was, digging yet another burrow. This is clear, irrefutable evidence that she is a subject of truth maintaining fidelity to an event, reinterpreting all the elements of the situation in terms of her truth. My hypothesis is that she is contesting bourgeois capitalist power structures and the hegemony of lawns over vegetable gardens. I suspect that she’s a familiar sent by my wicked friend Melanie to torment me in my hollow middle class existence. Or maybe she just got knocked up and finds the tall grass of my unkept lawn to be a nice place to lay the results of her rutting.