Reading update

Finished Thomas Pynchon’s “Mason & Dixon”

Started Laszlo Krasznahorkai’s “The World Goes On”

Working on and off on Gaston Bachelard’s “The Poetics of Space”

On deck is “Percival Everett by Virgil Russell” by Percival Everett (oh that’s nifty to write)

To Rule Forever

To rule forever, it is necessary only to create, among the people one would rule, what we call…Bad History. Nothing will produce Bad History more directly nor brutally, than drawing a Line…through the midst of a People,— to create thus a Distinction betwixt ’em,— ’tis the first stroke.— All else will follow as if predestined, unto War and Devastation.

– Thomas Pynchon, Mason & Dixon

What’s Boring

Q: What things bore you?

Roberto Bolaño: The empty discourse of the Left. I take for granted the empty discourse of the Right.

– From an interview with Monica Maristain for Playboy Magazine, republished in Between Parenthesis as “The End: Distant Star.”

Swimmin’ Time

In the distance is the gloom of the end of days, when the sun calls home its wandering rays, when all of the iron has gone to rust, and every living thing has turned to dust. There won’t be anyone left to float your boat, they all went to high ground while their vessels still float, they scream God’s will but you know it’s a lie, by your own book it says by fire next time; the golden eggs cracked open, and there was nothing inside. Cast all dispersions build a levee of lies. I can see it comin’: bite down on the leather, and close your eyes, there’s nothin’ to be done that can turn the tide. The money in your eyes has left you blind. You’ll be the one drownin’ when it’s swimmin’ time

– Shovels and Rope, “Swimmin’ Time”

On the Value of Poets

If I had to hold up the most heavily fortified bank in America, I’d take a gang of poets. The attempt would probably end in disaster, but it would be beautiful.

– Roberto Bolaño, in “THE BEST GANG,” (January 1999 – April 2000), Between Parenthesis

Thought process

It occurs to me that my thought process is essentially analog; my thoughts flow in forms warm and cold, strong and weak, loud and quiet. I think in terms of fields, vaguely topographical, upon which I am mostly, but not completely, blind. The solution I’m looking for is always in the exact center of this topography, but I only know what the center looks like when I finally arrive there. Is this intuition?