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READIN

Jeremy's journal

When I want to freak myself out, “I” think about “me” thinking about having an “I” The only thing stupider than puppets talking to puppets is a puppet talking to itself.

Daryl Gregory


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Friday, February 13th, 2009

🦋 Predator

At the park near our house, Ellen got some great shots of a large bird that we believe to be a hawk (Update -- apparently it is a juvenile red-tail hawk):
-- also there are some pictures of Sylvia's classroom at the Family Album.

Ellen has written a new article at Patch.com, about what summer activities are available for kids around here: Look No Further Than Your Own Backyard.

posted evening of February 13th, 2009: Respond
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🦋 Eros cont'd

This passage is just too awesome:

Magnificat Dominum anima mea, Mary is reputed to have said afterwards, perhaps misheard from Magnam me facit Dominus. That is pretty much all she says in the Gospels, this maid who is matchless, as though struck dumb for the rest of her life by what befell her. No one around her has the shamelessness to question what must surely have occurred to people, to her girlfriends in Nazareth for instance. How did she bear it? they must have whispered among themselves. It must have been like being fucked by a whale. It must have been like being fucked by the Leviathan; blushing as they spoke the word, those barefoot children of the tribe of Judah, as she, Elizabeth Costello, almost catches herself blushing too, setting it down on paper.

posted evening of February 13th, 2009: Respond
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🦋 Eros

Another chapter of Elizabeth Costello, another bunch of references.

Robert Duncan is an American poet from California. (Ellen has heard him read but says he was "considered old-fashioned" by her cohort.) Elizabeth heard him read "A poem beginning with a line from Pindar", the only time she met him, and it turned her on. She thinks of him while reading Susan Mitchell's prose poem "Erotikon (a Commentary on «Amor and Psyche»)" (this link is to Google Books, I'm not sure if it remains usable in the long term.)

And shall I come sweet sex to thee
bound truelovewise?
O take fast hold, said Sex to me,
of the moneybox, and night was our koine
with its bleats and glottic stops
its suctions and seductions.

All night we laved a fierce lallation.

Wake now, my love, I said to Sex.
Be not overly
subtle with periods and semicolons.
Take fast hold of the quim and quid.
By morning I was catamount.
Sex was microcephalic.

The legend of Eros and Psyche, which I feel like I really ought to know already, is the story of Venus attempting to humiliate her mortal daughter Psyche by the agency of her divine son Eros. (Duncan's poem also has reference to this legend.)

Why the interest in Psyche among American poets, she wonders? Do they find something American in her, the girl who, not content with the ecstasies provided night after night by the visitor to her bed, must light a lamp, peel back the darkness, gaze on him naked? In her restlessness, her inability to leave well enough alone, do they see something of themselves?

Anybody know what is the movie referenced here:

She thinks of a movie she saw once, that might have been written by Nathanael West though in fact it wasn't: Jessica Lange playing a Hollywood sex goddess who has a breakdown and ends up in the common ward of a madhouse, drugged, lobotomized, strapped to her bed, while orderlies sell tickets for ten minutes at a time with her. 'I wanna fuck a movie star!' pants one of their customers, shoving his dollars at them.
Please speak up in comments if you know. (Update: paledave says it is Frances (1982).)

Interesting that this is the first chapter not to include a speech. This makes me think the talk on censorship in Chapter 6 was a turning point for the novel, and that Coetzee is giving us an interlude here. (Would kind of like to know how the conference in Chapter 6 played out, what were the repercussions for Costello and for her reputation...)

posted evening of February 13th, 2009: 4 responses
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🦋 New lease on vision

So I've been walking around for a couple of weeks with a new glasses prescription in my pocket... Finally today I took it in to the shop and bought a new pair of glasses, and wow! It is like stepping through a portal into a new reality, one where lines are much sharper and more distinct. Suddenly the patches of color around me have definite shapes and are clearly separated from one anther. It is a pleasant sensation.

I took Ellen's advice on which frames to purchase (pictured above), probably a wise move -- initially I had my heart set on a pair of dark plastic round frames which (I thought) made me look a lot like Gary Shteyngart in this photo.

posted afternoon of February 13th, 2009: 2 responses

🦋 Do you read READIN?

I seem to have picked up several new readers in the last couple of weeks, bringing my total to the high single digits or low double digits. If you have recently started reading the site, and you don't mind if I know about it, please leave a comment on this post or at the Guestbook -- I'd love to know who I'm writing to. If you prefer to remain anonymous, no worries, disregard this post -- I understand that impulse as well.

(A brief rundown of this blog's history, from last spring, in case that interests you. Kind of dull frankly.)

posted morning of February 13th, 2009: 2 responses
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🦋 Lucky Day

Not only is today Friday the 13th -- also it is a special day for the Unix clock. This evening at 30 seconds past 6:31, it is 1,234,567,890 seconds since the Unix epoch.

posted morning of February 13th, 2009: 1 response

Thursday, February 12th, 2009

🦋 Industrial Decay

Australian blogger Wildly Parenthetical linked a few weeks ago to the Cockatoo Island Project -- photographer Patrick Boland's documentary of the old, rusting disused installations on Cockatoo Island in Sydney harbor ("Peter Panâ??s Never Never Land for a photographer who likes industrial and historical decay"). Magnificent! (As Maurice said to me, "May we all decay so colorfully!")

posted evening of February 12th, 2009: 1 response
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🦋 Chinese Feathers

Interesting, so now I'm reading Elizabeth Costello and I'm seeing arguments about morality and animal rights everywhere I look. Today Saramago is writing about lobsters and geese:

Putting a living lobster in boiling water and cooking it is an old culinary practice in the western world. It seems that if the lobster were dead in the bath, its final flavor would be different, for the worse. There are furthermore those who say that the rosy color with which the crustacean leaves the pot is due precisely to the high temperature of the water. I don't know it, I'm saying what I've been told, I am incapable of properly frying an egg. One day I saw in a documentary how to prepare chickens, how to kill and butcher them, and I was very close to throwing up. And the other day, if I am remembering right, I read a magazine article about the use of rabbits in the manufacture of cosmetics, and there I found out that the tests to prevent any possible irritation caused by the ingredients of shampoos involve applying them directly to the eyes of these animals, after the fashion of the dreadful Dr. Death, who injected petroleum into the hearts of his victims. Now, a brief notice appears in the periodicals informing me of how, in China, the birds' feathers which are destined to be stuffing for pillows are plucked out the same way, while living, after which they are cleaned, disinfected, and exported for the enjoyment of civilized societies which find it proper and fashionable. I will not comment, it is not worth the trouble, these feathers are enough.

posted evening of February 12th, 2009: Respond
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🦋 The Problem of Evil

How will Amsterdam react to Elizabeth Costello in her present state? Does the sturdy Calvinist word evil still have any power among these sensible, pragmatic, well-adjusted citizens of the New Europe? Over half a century since the devil last swaggered brazenly through their streets, yet surely they cannot have forgotten.
Some notes on Chapter 6 of Elizabeth Costello:

The novel Costello is reading at the beginning of the chapter is The Very Rich Hours of Count von Stauffenberg by Paul West. West wrote a review of Elizabeth Costello for Harper's, under the title "The Novelist and the Hangman"; however that review is not available online.

Costello refers to Stalin as "Koba the Bear, [Hitler's] older brother and mentor" -- this seems ahistorical to me and reeks vaguely of Holocaust denialism. Stalin and Hitler were both brutal tyrants and genocidaires; but there was not a mentor relationship.

It is very interesting to watch Costello, the novelist, reading and reacting to West's novel.

I'm still wondering what the student who tried to make a scene at Costello's lecture in Chapter 1 wanted to talk about. Was she a vegetarian? A person morally opposed to vegetarianism? Perhaps a biology student upset about Costello's stand against animal research? The Holocaust-belittlement would not have been an issue at that point in time unless she had made the same remarks previously; but that seems unlikely.

posted evening of February 12th, 2009: Respond
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🦋 I never realized this



Abraham Lincoln and Charles Darwin were both born on Feb. 12, 1809. In different locations though, and I don't think their paths ever crossed. Still, intriguing.


...Come to think of it, now I'm thinking Dinosaur Comics made note of this a couple of years ago. Or some similar forum. Hm.

Update: and what do I find out now, but it is also Acephalous' birthday.

posted afternoon of February 12th, 2009: Respond

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