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"[...]a vessel cleaving the dungeon of the waves[...]"
You're Love in the Time of Cholera!
by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Like Odysseus in a work of Homer, you demonstrate undying loyalty by
sleeping with as many people as you possibly can. But in your heart you never give
consent! This creates a strange quandary of what love really means to you. On the
one hand, you've loved the same person your whole life, but on the other, your actions
barely speak to this fact. Whatever you do, stick to bottled water. The other stuff
could get you killed.
Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.
Never miss a word
You're Infinite Jest!
by David Foster Wallace
While you1 consider yourself2 to be clever,
there are those3 who think you're just full of yourself or, perhaps worse,
playing a joke4 on everyone around you, and yet you are pretty sure that
you really are that brilliant after all, since people would hardly take the time to
get to know you5 if they didn't care very deeply about what you had to
say to them, to wit, about their lives, their hopes, their dreams, their fears, their
drug habits, and of course what videos6 they prefer to watch, since,
after all, your impressive vocabulary and tendency to go on and on7 makes
you seem superior, able to educate them, and really drive a sense of something
ineffable into their measly little skulls while you are not above making a cheap
gag or really going after anyone or anything or telling them about incredible
futures involving tennis, geopolitics, and
1Meaning you personally, not someone like you or your own
personal daddy, for example.
2As well as you can see yourself, which, frankly, may not be that well.
3Though we wouldn't deign to be so peripatetic as to name them here, mind.
4Jokes, though not common in Victorian England, were known to originate
sometime in ancient history, perhaps as early as the time of Babylon, or even before.
It is thought that the history of the joke plays an integral role in the mindset of
the characters depicted here, though you may disagree at this point, in which case I
am facing quite the dilemma in relaying this narrative, no?
5It is rather time consuming, after all.
6Ha!
7and on and on and on...
Take the Book Quiz II
at the Blue Pyramid.
You're The Metamorphosis!
by Franz Kafka
Though you think you're in the midst of a dream, the fact of the
matter is that your life has become a nightmare. The nightmare at first seems
horrific to you, but you are slowly able to adjust to the facts of the matter
and settle down and make do with what you've been given. There are those that
would say you're pointless and absurd, but you're really just trying to
demonstrate that people can (and do) adapt to anything, no matter how absurd
it is. Not that this will really inspire them to change, because they probably
don't understand.
Take the Book Quiz II
at the Blue Pyramid.
About Me
- Σφιγξ
- possesses wholly unmerited academic pretensions; examines love as an entomologist; collects haunted dollshouses; notes the lunar phase as regularly as the temperature; peruses field guides; reads like a serial magazine subscriptionist; functions through coffee and "mood" music; draws to the very corners of the page; takes notes on unlined paper; reads poetry as prayer; observes textual authority with the incredulity of fiction; suppresses the smart-ass answer(s); adapts as well as anyone beseiged by her own bibelots; she is a sensation seeker in spite of all of this.
36 comments:
Romance Sonambulo
by Federico García Lorca
Translated by William Logan
Green, how I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
The ship out on the sea
and the horse on the mountain.
With the shade around her waist
she dreams on her balcony,
green flesh, her hair green,
with eyes of cold silver.
Green, how I want you green.
Under the gypsy moon,
all things are watching her
and she cannot see them.
Green, how I want you green.
Big hoarfrost stars
come with the fish of shadow
that opens the road of dawn.
The fig tree rubs its wind
with the sandpaper of its branches,
and the forest, cunning cat,
bristles its brittle fibers.
But who will come? And from where?
She is still on her balcony
green flesh, her hair green,
dreaming in the bitter sea.
--My friend, I want to trade
my horse for her house,
my saddle for her mirror,
my knife for her blanket.
My friend, I come bleeding
from the gates of Cabra.
--If it were possible, my boy,
I'd help you fix that trade.
But now I am not I,
nor is my house now my house.
--My friend, I want to die
decently in my bed.
Of iron, if that's possible,
with blankets of fine chambray.
Don't you see the wound I have
from my chest up to my throat?
--Your white shirt has grown
thirsy dark brown roses.
Your blood oozes and flees a
round the corners of your sash.
But now I am not I,
nor is my house now my house.
--Let me climb up, at least,
up to the high balconies;
Let me climb up! Let me,
up to the green balconies.
Railings of the moon
through which the water rumbles.
Now the two friends climb up,
up to the high balconies.
Leaving a trail of blood.
Leaving a trail of teardrops.
Tin bell vines
were trembling on the roofs.
A thousand crystal tambourines
struck at the dawn light.
Green, how I want you green,
green wind, green branches.
The two friends climbed up.
The stiff wind left
in their mouths, a strange taste
of bile, of mint, and of basil
My friend, where is she--tell me--
where is your bitter girl?
How many times she waited for you!
How many times would she wait for you,
cool face, black hair,
on this green balcony!
Over the mouth of the cistern
the gypsy girl was swinging,
green flesh, her hair green,
with eyes of cold silver.
An icicle of moon
holds her up above the water.
The night became intimate
like a little plaza.
Drunken "Guardias Civiles"
were pounding on the door.
Green, how I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
The ship out on the sea.
And the horse on the mountain.
http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15432
Trouve avant de chercher.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jWS-9Q04l1g
I was taking my nightly walk, and nearing a stranger, crossed to the other side. He followed me, and I obeyed the instinct to run. I thought then that this person is too weak to overwhelm me, except with a knife. I have to stay inside approaching Halloween, but then, I thought, so this is it. I will never stop walking at night, despite its sporadic dangers.
http://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2015/10/27/criterion-at-thirty/
http://www.openculture.com/2014/01/download-100000-images-from-the-history-of-medicine.html
https://schabrieres.wordpress.com/2015/10/31/jules-supervielle-mes-veines-et-mes-vers/
https://books.google.com/books?id=k-JJBgAAQBAJ&lpg=PT26&dq=Mary%20Oliver%20%22That%20tall%20distance%22&pg=PT26#v=onepage&q=Mary%20Oliver%20%22That%20tall%20distance%22&f=false
I realized that I have been upset recently, and have been at loose ends, due to perceived guilt about a situation. I know what it was that threw things off just before the Harvest Moon. It was a terrible feeling. I am taking full responsibility for it.
https://schabrieres.wordpress.com/2018/10/14/michel-houellebecq-le-jour-monte-et-grandit/
Michel Houellebecq – Le jour monte et grandit…
Le jour monte et grandit, retombe sur la ville,
Nous avons traversé la nuit sans délivrance
J’entends les autobus et la rumeur subtile
Des échanges sociaux. J’accède à la présence.
Aujourd’hui aura lieu. La surface invisible
Délimitant dans l’air nos êtres de souffrance
Se forme et se durcit à une vitesse terrible;
Le corps, le corps pourtant, est une appartenance.
Nous avons traversé fatigues et désirs
Sans retrouver le goût des rêves de l’enfance,
Il n’y a plus grand-chose au fond de nos sourires,
Nous sommes prisonniers de notre transparence.
http://livresanciens-tarascon.blogspot.com/2013/02/oeuvres-de-prevert-illustrees-par-jean.html
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oOS5Ry6UmKY
https://books.google.com/books?id=eJ-PN9g_o-EC&lpg=PA63&dq=self-efficacy%20to%20produce%20certain%20attainments&pg=PA63#v=onepage&q=self-efficacy%20to%20produce%20certain%20attainments&f=false
A reason to work holiday overtime.*
Exercise 85 will go here.
https://1drv.ms/u/s!AsA4BY25Ql_1jmPOrHmgCoKGWZ4o
https://youtu.be/KKaJhQBusH8
https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2018/06/180621101334.htm
https://www.eurekalert.org/pub_releases/2018-04/uouh-mar042518.php
https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2018/12/the-sex-recession/573949/
Another reading list:
Nine Pints: A Journey Through the Money, Medicine, and Mysteries of Blood by Rose George
The Mystery of the Exploding Teeth: And Other Curiosities from the History of Medicine by Thomas Morris
Living with the Gods by Neil MacGregor
Light by M.J. Harrison (new to me)
Phone by Will Self (on my shelf)
The Ghosts of Cannae and the Darkest Hour of the Roman Republic by Robert L. O'Connell (on my shelf)
Eyes to See: The Astonishing Variety of Vision in Nature by Michael F. Land
To be amended, too.
https://books.google.com/books?id=PYD1CAAAQBAJ&lpg=PA168&dq=paraproteins%20hyperviscosity%20rheumatoid%20factor&pg=PA168#v=onepage&q=paraproteins%20hyperviscosity%20rheumatoid%20factor&f=false
https://www.sciencesetavenir.fr/sante/cerveau-et-psy/douleur-se-tenir-par-la-main-synchronise-les-cerveaux_121732?utm_medium=Social&utm_source=Facebook&fbclid=IwAR3n9lEkjet-SWPtTmWtboZPMX7UYKgLdpSYGfcoW2blplLPLJO1dvR5DlM#Echobox=1545478984
https://www.space.com/43070-super-blood-wolf-moon-lunar-eclipse-2019-photos.html
My dream last night centered on being in a lab with a worksheet and some significant figures, and being told that time is up, now, go empty the head-shaped glass bowls on the bench, fill them with clean water, and replace the dry ice cubes in the drawers. I pulled the drawers and found small rabbits in each drawer; therefore, the dry ice would smother them(!)
This sequence followed an interminable time of being in a multi-level house, in white scrubs, which I would never wear, and being besmeared with bright, shameful hues of every color. At last, to walk into another room, where a game of water volleyball is winding down. Why don't you join us?
http://www.alainamiel.com/niki.htm
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UhWFddWz1Nk&t=11s
My plants are bountiful this season. This is my favorite variety.
https://books.google.com/books?id=qMXIAwAAQBAJ&lpg=PA52&dq=Craig%20LeHoullier%20%22I%20was%20growing%20a%20number%20of%20Cherokee%20Purple%22&pg=PA52#v=onepage&q=Craig%20LeHoullier%20%22I%20was%20growing%20a%20number%20of%20Cherokee%20Purple%22&f=false
"Now He stopped, and looked at me, and on His face was the same smile He had when he saw the peasant girl. If I could have moved, perhaps He would have done no more than smile, but I did not wish to, I could not, and He stood up then and seized the hair of my head even as His Father Seti held the head of captured slaves, and His member was before me. [...] wherefore He came forth with such a force that something in the very sanctuary of myself flew open, and the last of my pride was gone. I was not longer myself but His, and loved Him, and knew that I would die for Him, but I also knew that I would never forgive Him, not when I ate, not when I drank, and not when I defecated. Like an arrow flew one thought through my mind: It was that I must revenge myself.
'We shall never be destroyed in battle,' He said. 'We are now the beast that moves with its own four legs.' And He gave a last kiss and sighed as if He had eaten all of a banquet. But I knew the taste in my mouth of the Very Green and the blood of my bowels kept knocking on my heart.
[...
"Therefore, He distrusted the House of the Secluded. After many a pause, He told me that He had decided to place me there. I was the only man in the Two-Lands who was wise enough to discover whether there was a true plot or none. 'Yes,' He said, 'at Kadesh, who else but you could know the mind of Metella?' He took my arm. 'No task,' He said, 'is more important than caring for Me. That is noble work for any General,' and He began to tell of great Generals of the past who had become Pharaohs. Powerful was His breath!
"Yet, He was sending me into a place where there would be none but women. When I did not dare to refuse, I knew that the warrior in Him—even if was His own order—must despise me.
[...] but from His exalted view, I was a little queen. "
From Ancient Evenings IV. Book of the Charioteer, 1983, Norman Mailer
https://www.google.com/amp/s/collider.com/1917-ending-explained/%3famp#ip=1
Yes, I was searching for Neil MacGregor's Living with the Gods, and I will eventually settle on Will Self's Phone to complete the trilogy since our reading together. I particularly love his experimental writing (Phone purports to be one sentence), and I like earmarking details like Strelitzia and the Cassegrain view of Saturn.
https://www.artnews.com/art-news/artists/rare-birds-susan-rothenberg-discusses-her-recent-paintings-on-view-in-new-york-7236/amp/
https://books.google.com/books?id=zxjOfsKcnj0C&pg=PA93&lpg=PA93&dq=Blood+Tin+Straw+Spouses+Waking+Up+in+a+Hotel+Mirror&source=bl&ots=CSCVf-iI_K&sig=ACfU3U2sujq_2GXpv5TS0L0gl3cRGVrMLQ&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjMmeeGnMXpAhU-mHIEHd77DgQQ6AEwAHoECAYQAQ#v=onepage&q=Blood%20Tin%20Straw%20Spouses%20Waking%20Up%20in%20a%20Hotel%20Mirror&f=false
I like the mirror analysis, the confusion of pronouns; not the beating part, but the herons and gladiatorial phenomenology.
https://www.audubon.org/field-guide/bird/tricolored-heron#
19. La Garza “Al otro lado del rio, tengo me banco de arena, donde se sienta me chata pico de garza moreno.”
The Heron: On the other side of the river is the sandbar where sits my honey with a beak like a brown heron.
One Word: Seek
Interpretations: True love is available but it might take time to find it. OR Look and you will find what you are seeking, maybe in an unlikely place
I remember that from a long time ago I thought of you as a heron, even if this does not flatter you in a conventional way. One of my favorite bird species.*
I have the shock to have one of my mother's contemporaries post-stenting. Please, please take care. Do not ignore your heart. I do not want to meet that way.
https://youtu.be/Yii6JBGWHms
I still have not forgotten to work on Exercise 88, which I will put here.
https://www.thisiscolossal.com/2020/08/2020-bird-photographer-of-the-year/
https://earthsky.org/astronomy-essentials/harvest-moon-2
I know we voted differently, for our reasons, and it makes the narrow result acceptable. I respect you more than if it had been a slaughterfest or a repudiation.
We are free to decide the next part, since no one has lost face.
https://onedrive.live.com/?authkey=%21AB94u6nc7pwTci0&cid=F55F42B98D0538C0&id=F55F42B98D0538C0%213197&parId=root&o=OneUp
Arriving pedicured and in my new underwear, I wonder if I would not disappoint in however small interstice of time and space...
interstice
interstice (noun) An intervening space, especially a very small one
These novels carve out for themselves an interstice between flat-out fiction and a sort of weird cerebral roman à clef. When they fail, as my own first long thing did, they’re pretty dreadful. But when they succeed, as I claim David Markson’s Wittgenstein’s Mistress does, they serve the vital & vanishing function of reminding us of fiction’s limitless possibilities for reach & grasp, for making heads throb heartlike, & for sanctifying the marriages of cerebration & emotion, abstraction & lived life, transcendent truth-seeking & daily schlepping, marriages that in our happy epoch of technical occlusion & entertainment-marketing seem increasing consummatable only in the imagination.
Wallace, David Foster. “The Empty Plenum: David Markson’s Wittgenstein’s Mistress.” Both Flesh and Not. New York: Little, Brown and Company, 2012. p74.
https://dfwvocab.tumblr.com/page/10
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1GO1EacmaoWnnYM36IGluSTcyT6PrYsW1/view?usp=drivesdk
Exercise 90 goes here.
Thank you for reminding me. Exercise 90.
https://1drv.ms/i/s!AsA4BY25Ql_1mx1h6W8Y91QaAAL7?e=2uzMGn
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