Monday, 13 October 2008

"Der ikonoklastische Versuch einer metaphernfreien Sprache muß scheitern."

Oh Rose, thou art sick!

Oh Rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm
That flies in the night,
in the howling storm

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy.
And with his dark secret love,
does thy life destroy.

William Blake

We virtually have consumption. Another event in a long chain of Victorian happenings. Oh, Victorianism! The sweet irony that you should enpassionate me so but never descend to my level to satiate my desires. (The poet sighs.)

This book has been rocking my day a bit:

Everything everything.
Julian Barnes is taking considerable time to get started. Although that is probably narrative technique to make the book appear more Victorian. Lol.
Eventually I will not contain myself any more, and burst open like Bradley Headstone in Our Mutual Friend. Only I will not attempt to murder, I will rape the novel! Rape the book!

I am writing allegorically! Both the surface meaning and the underlying meaning are equally true. Ain't life grand?

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