So. I am, today, officially THIRTY.FIVE. Is this even possible? The rain is falling gently outside, the mailbot hums down the hallway, a freshly picked pear and a cup of tea and some squishy brownie by my side.
And, as I find myself here at the grand master Castle for the day anyhow, I am going to make good their broadcasting mandate (whatever it is) and regale my loyal reader(s) with a few clever words.
Alas, they will not be mine, as I have none to impart.
No, I am taking a moment to transcribe for you the beginning of one of the Best Books of ALL Time, entitled "Sanatorium Under the Sign of the Hourglass", by Bruno Schulz. As it is my Favourite Book Ever, I feel it is only fitting to spend my birthday with it, at least in the quieter moments at this strange job that goes from being busy to not busy to busy again.
Think of this, dear reader(s), as a reverse birthday present, as the following cannot fail to evoke something most reverent and wonderful in even the least book-biased of all of you.
And now, Mister Bruno Schulz. Bless him.
"I AM SIMPLING CALLING it The Book without any epithets or qualifications, and in this sobriety there is a shade of helplessness, a silent capitulation before the vastness of the transcendental, for no word, no allusion, can adequately suggest the shiver of fear, the presenti....
(ring ring. and there was a happy birthday a la Coco! How Very Fitting. Now, where was I?)
...the presentiment of a thing without name that exceeds all our capacity for wonder. How could an accumulation of adjectives or a richness of epithets help when one is faced with that splendiferous thing? Besides, any true reader-and this story is only addressed to him-will understand me anyway when I look him straight in the eye and try to communicate my meaning. A short sharp look or a light clasp of his hand will stir him into awareness, and he will blink in rapture at the brilliance of The Book. For, under the imaginary table that separates me from my readers, don't we secretly clasp each other's hands?
The Book...Somewhere in the dawn of childhood, at the first daybreak of life, the horizon had brightened with its gentle glow...the wind would rustle through its pages and the pictures would rise...page after page floated in the air and gently saturated the landscape with brightness...The Book...
Oh happy happy day. I LOVE birthdays. And since my entire life Revolves around the above, I Love them too!
And, as I find myself here at the grand master Castle for the day anyhow, I am going to make good their broadcasting mandate (whatever it is) and regale my loyal reader(s) with a few clever words.
Alas, they will not be mine, as I have none to impart.
No, I am taking a moment to transcribe for you the beginning of one of the Best Books of ALL Time, entitled "Sanatorium Under the Sign of the Hourglass", by Bruno Schulz. As it is my Favourite Book Ever, I feel it is only fitting to spend my birthday with it, at least in the quieter moments at this strange job that goes from being busy to not busy to busy again.
Think of this, dear reader(s), as a reverse birthday present, as the following cannot fail to evoke something most reverent and wonderful in even the least book-biased of all of you.
And now, Mister Bruno Schulz. Bless him.
"I AM SIMPLING CALLING it The Book without any epithets or qualifications, and in this sobriety there is a shade of helplessness, a silent capitulation before the vastness of the transcendental, for no word, no allusion, can adequately suggest the shiver of fear, the presenti....
(ring ring. and there was a happy birthday a la Coco! How Very Fitting. Now, where was I?)
...the presentiment of a thing without name that exceeds all our capacity for wonder. How could an accumulation of adjectives or a richness of epithets help when one is faced with that splendiferous thing? Besides, any true reader-and this story is only addressed to him-will understand me anyway when I look him straight in the eye and try to communicate my meaning. A short sharp look or a light clasp of his hand will stir him into awareness, and he will blink in rapture at the brilliance of The Book. For, under the imaginary table that separates me from my readers, don't we secretly clasp each other's hands?
The Book...Somewhere in the dawn of childhood, at the first daybreak of life, the horizon had brightened with its gentle glow...the wind would rustle through its pages and the pictures would rise...page after page floated in the air and gently saturated the landscape with brightness...The Book...
Oh happy happy day. I LOVE birthdays. And since my entire life Revolves around the above, I Love them too!
1 comment:
I FOUND you! I took you at your word, you sneaky thing. The last post at Tea and Symphonies where you announced the end. Oh, that was that, I said with a sigh and a tear. What will I now do with the time I should be using to do important things with? And I never went back. And now I discover you've been blogging shamelessly. All over the place. A NEW blog no less. And I am so happy to learn that I called in the middle of your quoting Bruno Schulz. Even INTERRUPTING Schulz is a kind of literary triumph, don't you think? Maybe it's a sign of many things. I know we're meant to be careful of signs, but wouldn't it be nice if it were. I love you. xoxococo
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