zerrissenheit

 

La Victoire, René Magritte

Dear Freunde,

No, Zerrissenheit is not a new subdivision on the edge of town, built on the bluff overlooking the meadow and riverbank you used to play in, but there is some overlap, some saliency.  "Torn-to-pieces-hood" is how Wm. James defines the word in Anne Morrow Lindbergh's Gift from the Sea.  The Collins dictionary reports it is a "disunity," an "inner conflict."

I first met the word in Gift From the Sea, so that is the definition I have been lumbering and laboring under for years.  It is a lovely book; I hope you have already read it.

In any event, it is my new favorite German word.  My previous favorite German word was Torschlusspanik.  I think I am going to wean myself off of panik, panic, and step into the warm oblivion of torn to pieces.  I feel like one can only feel bad about doors closing for so long, you know?  After enough doors close, you start not care so much about the ones that are about to close: "let 'em close," you say, defiantly; "I never wanted through you anyway, you big dumb door!"

the first

 

Dear Radio Dodo-heads,

My DJ played this a week or so ago, and I think it is our song for today; the first song for today for this year.  Yeah, I think it is kind of prophetic, and constructed very artfully.  Notice the plastic soul sound of it- I love that.

PS  I wanted to send you something useful, as well as enjoyable:  here is a primer on how to apply bandages.  Probably you already knew how, but in case you had any doubts.

light, sand, waves, stones

 

new year; new wants; your assignment for 2025

 

Dear 2025,

I always hate to see the old year end, because basically I don't like time passing.  Probably because I am afraid of  What Might Come Next.  But all that is immaterial; the point of this list is material wants, desires.  Here is what I want:  

An English translation of Le pavillions des enfants fous.  There isn't one to be had at this time. 

I also want this book- which I actually have a chance of getting, so that's nice!

I want to shop for, but not necessarily buy, new roller skates.

I want you to read King Kong Theory.  And really, as usual, this last item is the most important one on your (and my) resolution list.  My Mom just called and she said "I don't believe in resolutions, I think they are stupid, and they are there just to make you feel bad."  Well.  Okay, no doubt true, but I think we might view an intention to do a thing in a slightly broader way- under my Mother's ruling, all plans are destined to fail and what is worst about that is that you feel bad about it??  

Well, there could be another blog, one titled Refutations to the Things My Mother Says.  But, I guess if all I have is the threat of you feeling bad because you didn't do a thing, then, well, I suppose I am not above employing that threat to make you read it.  So, what am I saying?  Read it or else?  Yeah, that'll do. 

PS  While you are at it, check out The Feminist Press, which printed the used copy of King Kong Theory that I read.  Why didn't anyone tell me about Virginie Despentes?  Why didn't anyone tell me about The Feminist Press?  This is your lucky day, because I am telling you.

twenty four hundred

 

Dear Fellow Roller Skaters,

We will have, to commemorate this two thousand four hundredth day of continuous roller skating, a set of This Wheel's On Fire!  Roll on!

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

PS  I hope you got glorious new wheels for the holidays!  

poetry corner

Terminator. 

Dear Readers,

Solstice Greetings!  You know I only want to give you the best; the stuff I am the most besotted with, the most enthused by, the most singful of praise for.  And so.  I read a book that was full of the sexism of its time, and it was okay, even with all that rubbish, but, and yes, who knows that my little missives to you here won't be dismissed as sexist in 60 or 70 years?  But, the point is that 'meh' is not for the Dodo.  The point is also that amid vast leaf piles of meh one can find a gem fairly regularly, and so I give you this poem, Spring and Fall, which was in the meh book.

I hate to admit my ignorance, (but if I don't admit it, I will continue endlessly in ignorance!) but, why are there these little diacritical marks all over this poem?  I know some of you learned English Majors can enlighten me....

anti-model

 

Dear Outraged, Again,

I have had a few positive models for my behavior, but I have oodly scads of anti-models.  People I don't want to act, look, or sound like.  This is troubling enough, this fact, but it isn't what I want to tell you about.  What I want to tell you about is this way that we kind of search out, hunt for, things to be outraged over.  I think we do this.  Like we like to go on the scary ride at the amusement park, or watch the scary movie (uh, well, actually I don't like to do those things, but I think it is still valid) to feel a little thrill.  We look for things to be angry at or to hate because it feels like something, at least.  And no one knows how the microwave love works anyway, so hate is a lot easier to work with.  I know I do this, so I don't say this to suggest that you should change and I should not; I say it so that maybe we can consider our outrage more thoughtfully.  No, no, I don't mean eliminate it entirely, I mean, maybe we want to reach for it less often.  

I realize we will need some kind of medical patch, or substitute, like morphine, to help us to kick it.  I might try to substitute this kind of reaction:  Isn't that funny?  Isn't it peculiar that such an outrageous thing just happened?  Isn't it interesting, in an cultural anthropology way?  

Oh, and yet.  I suppose maybe it doesn't even matter to try to improve oneself in this self-absorbed kind of way; we all lead these double lives:  One life is Hi, how are you, I am fine; and the other life is I will be crying the minute I get home today, and tomorrow, too, and the day after that.