-i've begun to collect my hair in a box named Paul. the box is cardboard, black with golden lettering and used to hold colorful macaroons...they were immensely sweet and decorative. my hair looks wispy and uncanny clumped together in there shadowy like a bird's nest. it occurred to me that if there were a fire, i might not save anything in the house but this box of hair. most objects are just as fleeting, just as perishable in the long run.
-i'm speechless and wordless. language can become such a tricky monster, and allows me to reveal only the most petty information, what i ate and what i wore and what i plan to do but nothing else. not what there could be, not the thoughts at the second layer, that part of the mind. that he holds tight, indulging in my thoughts hoarding them for his private uses. for the time being i will assent to my tongue not being mine.
You weren't wordless enough that I'd miss a description of your hair :)
ReplyDeleteI was wondering what is the link between both those ideas, maybe you needed to cough up all that hair blocking your throat and now the words can flow back ;)
"for the time being I will assent to my tongue not being mine."
ReplyDeleteThis was my favorite strand in the post. I'm always pleased when I check Book Cellar and see that you have posted a new stream of words for us to consider.
I recently came across something from HTMLGiant that concerns language (of course) and translation. You might like it.
http://htmlgiant.com/reviews/mouth-eats-color/
Here's Sawako Nakayasu’s page: http://www.sawakonakayasu.net/
I haven't investiagated yet, being in the midst of a few things concerning the bulk of my increasingly limited attention span, one of which involves a deep entanglement within the world(s) created in Murakami's new novel, IQ84. I whole-heartedly recommend this book to you (and Vincent).
Take care, take care, take care...