Friday, October 17, 2008

arriving again where i started

Oh beautiful, beautiful, beautiful world!

So much work! So much to do!

[and none of it relevant (relevant? to what?)]

what i thought i loved is not what i thought it was at all. and it is now far, far more wonderful. and difficult!

i love winterson's writing for itself. but now i am very aware of the superficiality of my reading. to really understand, to really scrape the tenderest meanings from each leaf, to really explore the stacked and stacked - solid and teetering - layers of meaning, i must now read Woolf, Eliot, Joyce, Stein. And some others. Where is the time?!

Sexing the Cherry is a reading of "Four Quartets"? Lighthousekeeping requires Woolf?

It's like my whole world just fell apart - but kaleidoscoped - and the broken beauty is more beautiful than the thin wholes I thought I had.

2 comments:

liminalityandversucher said...

which Woolf is it, because if it's To the Lighthouse, I've been meaning to read that since forever ago.

philosophotarian said...

yeah, i've tried a few times and i never get very far ...

but i think i ought to read both _to the lighthouse_ and _the waves_

dissertation procrastination!