Saturday, November 24, 2007

“I wish you weren’t giving up the world, after all what else is there”

as harvey says to bellamy in the green knight.

anyway, the writing is coming so slowly now. i don't think i've ever written so slowly. probably b/c i've never taken this much time with anything. i made the huge mistake of renting the movie iris with judy dench and kate winslet to sort of refresh me or motivate me or something. big effing mistake. unless watching someone get old and dotty and die are motivating to you, i guess. listen, biographical film type people: WE ALL KNOW THAT PEOPLE GET OLD AND DOTTY AND DIE. STOP SHOWING US! why not take a really fabulous, steamy part of old murdoch's life, light it up in stars and leave it at that? do i need to see her totter around in an old stained food-befouled cardigan? no, to answer my own question, no i do not.

i did, inadvertantly, refresh my interest in the paper by talking to little brother. he let me read chunks of prose while he stood in line at bevmo--now that's family. so, man, she really writes some luminous stuff sometimes and i think it's a pity that criticism of her work spends so much time on the more dire stuff. here is one thing i get to write abt (and let me please for the next 24 retain that sense of get to):

it's too long but i don't care. let me introduce you to titus who is, i think, the literary love of my life:

The boy, showing off of course, swam like a dolphin, graceful, playful, a white swift flashing curving form, giving glimpses of sudden hands and heels, active shoulders, pale buttocks, and a wet exuberant laughing face framed in clinging seaweed hair. His sea-darkened hair certainly changed his appearance, became dark and straight, adhering to his neck and shoulders, plastering his face, making him look like a girl. Aware of the effect, he charmingly tossed his head and drew the heavy sopping locks back out of his eyes and off his brow. He had the effortless crawl which I have never mastered, and in his marine joy kept diving vertically under, vanishing and reappearing somewhere else with a triumphant yell. Equal mad delight possessed me, and the sea was joyful and the taste of the salt water was the taste of hope and joy. I kept laughing, gurgling water, spouting, whirling. Meeting my sea-dervish companion I shouted, 'Now aren't you glad you came to me?
'Yes, yes, yes!'

(The Sea, The Sea 256)

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