Tuesday, April 3, 2012

it's writing

Inspired by a turn in the evening's conversation, at SIN, and by way of a subsequent sequence of lookups too tedious and convoluted to relate here, I find that elsewhere, in another "online" journal, I had written -- three separate times, over a period of six months --
I expend all my will not to drink, so that, drinking, I should drink out of failure, in the sovereign intensity of failure.

4 comments:

  1. (Oh, and SIN's original owner, the guy from Texas, has moved on...now (since maybe last winter? certainly by the time the above post was written) it seems to be run by a Dutch couple. And it's called Fabelhaft.)

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  2. I found a file, "10-2-04-note.rtf," in which it is written: He had pulled off the not-so-subtle transposition of personal spaces and public spaces, so that the exterior world became a fertile womb, while the cramped quarters of the local pub was a group of strangers waiting to cross the street.

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  3. "...there were only two types of drinkers: those who drank to enhance their personalities, and those who sought to rid themselves of something."*

    But what if the personality being enhanced is precisely that of seeking to rid oneself of something?

    No, there is only one type of drinker: those who drink to escape themselves and become thereby even more themselves. Alcohol is the solution in which the paradox does not dissolve.
    __
    * Haruki Murakami, "Drive My Car," Men Without Women: Stories.

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