Postcard Telepathy

How construe commentary on a postcard that is specifically figured as “a pictorial performative which never ends” (PC, 98/108) — especially if it must reckon, at the same time, with that fragmentary phantom supplement published later as “Telepathy”1? I have been trying to read a bit of one of your post-cards, one of several dated 6 June 1977 (I note in passing that my own record of that day reveals that I too was in Oxford, and in the evening went to watch Yellow Submarine— Oxford can be a lonely place on a Monday night):What is going on under Socrates’ leg, do you recognize this object? It plunges under the waves made by the veils around the plump buttocks, you see the rounded double, improb-able enough, it plunges straight down, rigid, like the nose of a stingray, to electrocute the old man and analyze him under narcosis. You know that they were both very interested in this paralyzing animal. Would it make him write by paralyz-ing him? All of this, that I do not know or do not yet want to see, also comes back from the bottom of the waters of my memory, a bit as if I had drawn or engraved the scene, from the day that, in an Algiers lycée no doubt, I first heard of those two. Do people (I am not speaking of “philosophers” or of those who read Plato) realize to what extent this old couple has invaded our most private domesticity, mixing themselves up in everything, taking their part of everything, and mak-ing us attend for centuries their colossal and indefatigable anaparalyses? (PC, 18/23)