I wonder if I should just carry on nonchalantly as if nothing has happened.
Or should I dwell on things, publicly?
I very often feel like Josef K., looking for a trial at which I might defend myself or plead guilty.
I don't feel too bad, today, but when that happens I'm usually consumed by regret at the way I have acted when I do feel bad.
Oh well, I'll be forgotten sooner or later.
Just carry on and be careful with dogshit on the ground.
From now on, that shall be my motto.
:up:
Peter A Leonard writes:
Not forgotten, never that…so stand up, take the bull by the horns so to speak, and plead GUILTY! One should always then supplement that plea with a hearty “AND SO WHAT?”I do have this vision of one of Stapledon’s Last Men, his spirit, “which is but the flesh awakened into spirituality”, with the power to resist the tempest of solar energy, and this he does while reading an electric , dog eared copy of one of your short story collections…
Well, there is the fact that in order to be forgotten I have to enter the consciousness of sentient beings in the first place, which might make forgetting me difficult. But maybe this is the cue for me to post the very boastful lyrics I wrote yesterday…In a separate post, after I’ve come back from the supermarket.http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2113/1812953255_2d3b19d72e.jpg?v=0To be discovered… to be understood…To be continued…
I do have this vision of one of Stapledon’s Last Men, his spirit, “which is but the flesh awakened into spirituality”, with the power to resist the tempest of solar energy, and this he does while reading an electric , dog eared copy of one of your short story collections…I have to say, that such a vision would convince me that the snail was on the thorn and the ship in the bottle, or whatever it was. Was that the same poem in which the poet used the word ‘twat’ in relation to nuns, mistakenly thinking it was an item of nun vestment? A phrase like “cowls and twats”?Or am I thinking of another poem?I’ve heard that when Auden met Larkin, and asked him something like (I’m going to make this up now), “How’s your love life?” (It was probably more like, How’s Hull?, or How was Coventry?), he replied, approximately, “Well, considering that the whole universe is a bitch out to get me, I suppose my love life is not as bad as it could be compared with the worst case scenario of being a leper with halitosis and bad dress sense.” To which Auden replied, “Naughty, naughty!”So, you’re probably well within your rights to make Auden’s retort to me right now.Incidentally, I assumed that everyone knew, but just in case there are any reading this who can’t actually read, the heading of this entry is an allusion to Ulrich Haarburste’s Novel of Roy Orbison in Clingfilm.