I set your reading running while washing dishes, but soon stopped washing the dishes, and paced the room drinking whiskey instead. This is the first thing to speak into certain griefs I didnt think there were words for. Thanks bud.
Your pacing of the room and drinking whiskey, your noting of it, led me drunk-willing and curious. I only became more drunk. I only became more willing. I have rolled in the words first, I will take them listening next. To your left dishes I raise a cheer: let the bubbles go flat, let the silence of the unfinished tell us something about tears.
There was a sense I got when reading your essay that I also got when reading Laurus. That’s what provoked the recommendation. As if you and the main character were somehow in the same place.
I've read this twice and listened once and I must admit I made a dozen wrong turns at every go. Probably as much my own cowardice as anything else. But this part here speaks to my sentimental streak: "I wish this place... might for the foreseeable future be a spread of fragments unto Siddur, a poetics dreaming toward some gatherable We at world’s end hanging on the Word of a Bogdown Messiah given over, in the Night coming on, to the Bees, to tailslap and antler. To the Just. "
Yeah...that is leaving spot for whatever kicks up next here. same streak here. If you feel like telling me a bit more, here or elsehwere about wrong turns, maybe I can tinker with the map.
I want to add that it' not (just) the hopeful "we" that moves me here but the fresh and genuine ground of images; this mythopoetic mash up feels very close to whatever that New (but not new) Story, the one everyone likes to say we need, Illich included, is supposed to feel like...
This often happens to me when I read Andrew’s words. The experience becomes a humbling. Andrew is like a mirror and oftentimes I’m confronted with my own ugly image.
I set your reading running while washing dishes, but soon stopped washing the dishes, and paced the room drinking whiskey instead. This is the first thing to speak into certain griefs I didnt think there were words for. Thanks bud.
Thanks for both of these tellings, David and Peter. Nice to "meet" here, Peter.
Your pacing of the room and drinking whiskey, your noting of it, led me drunk-willing and curious. I only became more drunk. I only became more willing. I have rolled in the words first, I will take them listening next. To your left dishes I raise a cheer: let the bubbles go flat, let the silence of the unfinished tell us something about tears.
Reading this; I feel like I’m sitting Shiva. Have you read the novel “Laurus” by Eugene Vodolazkin?
Halflit and company. Yeah. I haven't read that. What's its like?
“What’s it like?” Wow, I’m really struggling to answer this. It’s like a universe. Here is a review that I thought was good.
https://veritasjournal.org/2023/01/27/laurus-sacramentality-and-enchantment/
There was a sense I got when reading your essay that I also got when reading Laurus. That’s what provoked the recommendation. As if you and the main character were somehow in the same place.
I've read this twice and listened once and I must admit I made a dozen wrong turns at every go. Probably as much my own cowardice as anything else. But this part here speaks to my sentimental streak: "I wish this place... might for the foreseeable future be a spread of fragments unto Siddur, a poetics dreaming toward some gatherable We at world’s end hanging on the Word of a Bogdown Messiah given over, in the Night coming on, to the Bees, to tailslap and antler. To the Just. "
Yeah...that is leaving spot for whatever kicks up next here. same streak here. If you feel like telling me a bit more, here or elsehwere about wrong turns, maybe I can tinker with the map.
That was the one I was gonna echo back, too -- that moved me so much. The whole thing, yes, but it all came down to this.
I want to add that it' not (just) the hopeful "we" that moves me here but the fresh and genuine ground of images; this mythopoetic mash up feels very close to whatever that New (but not new) Story, the one everyone likes to say we need, Illich included, is supposed to feel like...
With you.
This often happens to me when I read Andrew’s words. The experience becomes a humbling. Andrew is like a mirror and oftentimes I’m confronted with my own ugly image.