For the happy man! - Collected writings DEPRESSION: Ed Atkins

you and reveals its shape and its weight and the ways in which
these correspond to the movements of my stinking mouth, you
should be fine materialising it, making it jell.
[…]
I have tried to swallow words. To force them down
with a gulp of saliva-bilge recovered from around my teeth –
to cosset them, swaddle them in saliva to give them a fighting
chance at being digestible.
I’ve found that the most instinctive thing to do is
to just breathe the word like smoke – though that should be
resisted. In this perverse account, smoke is too much like air
is too much like nothing. What little body there is to smoke is
predominantly visual – a little scent, sure – a little sting in the
eyes – but no weight, no splashing turd! You should swallow it
properly. Down the wrong pipe! You may choke a little at first
(to be expected) you may gag. These are good signs. It means
there’s something there, something is taking shape. Something
is thinging-up, becoming itself, solidifying, fleshing-out,
thickening – where, in an instant, and as your tongue spasms
imperceptibly, you stuff wads of STUFF around the constituent
letters of the words; draping steaks of STUFF over the crossbar
of the ‘A’, packing sausages of STUFF into the snaked scaffold of
the ‘s’,
(What on earth are you spelling, by the way?)
Every metaphor here should relate to the tongue –
to your own tongue. Every metaphor should, ideally, be your
cuttlefish tongue.
[…]
Certain licks will tattoo, so careful.