Random neuron firing, lame philosophy, literary pontificating, movies, sex, clothes & other femme stuff

Thursday, September 04, 2003

A Lott to Ruminate (sorry)
Chris Lott's Ruminate is really a scrumptious site. I just love everything--beautiful poems, sharp reviews, rich aimless intellectualizing, how much he totally loves the members of his family, & of course his logo-orgasmatronic commonplace book (which, like Nick P's swelling tides of aphorisms, can leave you feeling quite exquisitely played out, if you try to experience too much in one session).

A few days ago, when the voluptuously femme Blue Roo and I were mutually arousing each other with our favorite bibliophilia/scholarship-porn instances, I panted huskily that the bibliography of Borges's Pierre Menard always drove me right over the edge and into the whistling darkness (or words to that effect). For some reason, though, I couldn't find a link to it in English. So along comes Chris, ever willing to lend ladies embarrassed thus a firm hand, spreads open wide his bristling commonplace book, and lo and behold—Menard-bibliographical throbbing ecstasy! Thank you, thank you, versatile Chris!

For being so perfectly in the right place at the right time, let me at least begin to repay you with a few small nuggets on the topic of writing and reading from my own cpb:

Each plant has its parasite, and each created thing its lover and poet.
Emerson, Representative Men

We are as elastic as the gas of gunpowder, and a sentence in a book, or a word dropped in conversation, sets free our fancy, and instantly our heads are bathed with galaxies, and our feet tread the floor of the Pit.

Our delight in reason degenerates into idolatry of the herald. Especially when a mind of powerful method has instructed men, we find the examples of oppression. The dominion of Aristotle, the Ptolemaic astronomy, the credit of Luther, of Bacon, of Locke,--in religion, the history of hierarchies, of saints, and the sects which have taken the name of each founder, are in point. Alas! every man is such a victim. The imbecility of men is always inviting the impudence of power.

The words of the wise are as goads.
Ecclesiastes 12.11

Of making many books there is no end; and much study is a weariness of the flesh.
Ecclesiastes 12.12

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