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Archive for September, 2008

Upon your conception of the single individual all your descriptions will be based, all your science established. For this reason, the human sciences, philosophy, ethics, psychology, politics, economics, can never be sciences at all. There can never be an exact science dealing with individual life. L’anatomia presuppone il cadavere; anatomy presupposes its corpse, says D’Annunzio. [...]

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To collect is to create a meaningful set of objects. The meaning resides in the way the pieces in the collection call attention to one another. By understanding the dialogue between members of a collection, we discover what the collector wants to show us about the objects and the world. Perhaps for this reason, it [...]

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joyce1.mp3 (audio/mpeg Object). Recording of Joyce reading from “Anna Livia Plurabelle” in Finnegans Wake. Soak up the weirdness. You are listening to: Book I, Chapter 8, pages 213.11-215.11. [I'll try to find the slightly longer version of this recording that goes up to 216.5, the end of both Chapter 8 and Book I -- "Dark [...]

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The Informer informateur / informer A friendly figure whose constant role, however, seems to be to wound the amorous subject by “innocently” furnishing commonplace information about the loved being, though the effect of this information information is to disturb the subject’s image of that being. (Barthes 138-139) 1.         Gustave, Leon, and Richard form a group; [...]

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“Show me whom to desire” induction / induction The loved being is desired because another or others have shown the subject that such a being is desirable: however particular, amorous desire is discovered by induction. (Barthes 136-137) 1.         Shortly before falling in love, Werther meets a young footman who tells him of his passion for [...]

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The Unknowable inconnaissable  /  unknowable Efforts of the amorous subject to understand and define the loved being “in itself,” by some standard of character type, psychological or neurotic personality, independent of the particular data of the amorous relation. (Barthes 134-135) 1.         I am caught in this contradiction: on the one hand, I believe I know [...]

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With slow love she looked at the scattered Colors of afternoon. It pleased her To lose herself in intricate melody Or in the curious life of verses. Not elemental red but the grays Spun her delicate destiny, Fashioned to discriminate and exercised In vacillation and in blended tints. Without venturing to tread this perplexing Labyrinth, [...]

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Imagine why a man likes being fucked. Imagine how my cock likes being sucked. Imagine making love to me, my friend. In English class, my teacher told us not To use the passive voice; “it’s weak,” he said. There was an older man who sometimes knocked At my back door; I’d think of him in [...]

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Demented underneath the moon, I watch The street conduct electric sparks tonight, These cars, their headlights, energy in flight– Skyscrapers precarious as men in heels. This night, it seems more glamorous than real. Demented underneath the moon, around Another corner, ten men beat the pan Of shiny, pooling blood another man Has made for them, [...]

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This Craft of Verse – Jorge Luis Borges. [Sorry for the slight inconvenience: to access the above link you need to sign up for a (FREE) account (IT'S REALLY QUICK AND EASY!) at imeem.com. I'll try to put the audio directly in the post soon.] This is a real treat for Borges lovers. Listen to [...]

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That day, the Yellow Emperor showed the poet his palace. They left behind, in long succession, the first terraces on the west which descend, like the steps of an almost measureless amphitheater, to a paradise or garden whose metal mirrors and intricate juniper hedges already prefigured the labyrinth. They lost themselves in it, gaily at [...]

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Hand to Mouth :: Paul Aster

The Paris Review – Hand to Mouth. Paul Aster reads “Hand to Mouth.” SummerStage, 2003 Running Time: 17:25

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Diodorus Siculus tells the story of a god, broken and scattered abroad. What man of us has never felt, walking through the twilight or writing down a date from his past, that he has lost something infinite? Mankind has lost a face, an irretrievable face, and all have longed to be that pilgrim — imagined [...]

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The Paris Review – The Art of Fiction No. 94. 2000, running time: 11:52 Interesting and funny (fragment of a?) live interview.

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The Paris Review – “Proust in Bed”. Twisted and hilarious, poem about Proust, read by poet. Who could ask for anything more? [Originally appeared in Issue 125, Winter 1992, of The Paris Review.] “Silliness is the soul’s sweetmeat.” Proust in Bed – J. D. McClatchey Through the peephole he could see a boy Playing patience [...]

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