Living in the limins

Benjamin Kunkel wrote in “Last Things: The Sinister Charm of Frederick Seidel” that “[Poet Frederick] Seidel writes as if id had become ego, but in the worst way: all insight, no cure.”

The quote resonates with me because I feel in some sense as if this could be an oversimplified analysis of my own life. I live in a space where impulsiveness is recognized but not controlled. I admit to eating a bowl of cookie dough like one would eat ice cream—and I admit that it’s a travesty against my bodily health—but I don’t stop, no matter my awareness of how willingly self-destructive I am.

I am id become ego, insight sans cure. Do I care? Id says no.