I awaken from a deep sleep to find myself standing in a vast desert. Derek approaches from the distance. "This is my homeland" he says, "What are you looking for?" "Astonished to be in such a vast wasteland, I ask, "Water, is there any water?" "Of course. Dont' you see that big green tree, just waiting there for you and me, and water, cool, clear, water?"
This is how it works with Derek: Out on the desert we come upon something aesthetic and he says it's all nonsense and is just another foolish theory urged by wayward art historians who don't know what the really real aesthetical situation is, IS. (Cheerskep, suddenly alert, happily wrings his hands). Dumbly, but eager for insight we ask, "Why Derek, why? He bruskly respnds, "I don't have the time or the inclination to tell you but it's plenty obvious and if you don't like my fully researched opinion, I mean argument, then you are just another art hisotrian who doesn't have a clue" "But...but...but" we stutter, "Derek, that's what we need, a clue. What is the clue, please?" Derek wanders off alone. Looking back, he yells, "I'm sick of these personal attacks!". Cheerskep moves closer and whispers, "IS?" We all gaze at the endless, dry wasteland. WC
