10, Outubro

I hope you’re doing well. School has recommenced for me and I’ve been tasked with an unprecedented flurry of obligatory readings, from books to papers to papers on books and books on papers. COVID-19 severely shortened the semester and one must toil to fit so much voluminous theory in such a thin amount of time. Among these readings is the Iliad, which I’ve read before in its entirety when I was fifteen but have now returned to what seems to be an entirely different work. The Epopee is remarkable for its many poetic subtleties that run as gutters between the branched type-scenes and cloned verses; once in a while, a descent mirrors nightfall, a spring is ripe with darkness or a tree punctuates a weakness or is a weakness and a tree. Perhaps the quality of things so vast and dense is that they will strike brilliancy if only by insistence. Ílion still slumbers in the fabric of our songs, as intact as it is besieged, as standing as it is fallen, and in all of its many echoes, Andromache first and last saw Troy for what it was, and no other account of it ever equaled hers. I found it a rather charming interpretation.

Published by João-Maria

A tick clinging to the bristles of a purple boar.

13 thoughts on “10, Outubro

    1. Ah! The endless initiation. I do sometimes force myself to the promise of not using old or odd words that come to mind as I compose, as to not have to force everyone into such innocuous procedures in order to bleed such lithe meanings, but something still compels me. I suppose I feel to save some words of their inevitable demise. So many of them are just corpses of the semiotic expanse…
      Either way, Ben, I’m terribly glad you consider the work worth your while, and I assure you it’s even more humbling for me that you do.

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  1. I always read your stuff twice, just to absorb, and so that there’s a lingering thing in my head I can take with me. I’m a thief that way. Good luck with school and your compressed semester – I know it must be tough, but we will get through this strange time.

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    1. I too impose some cruel pilferings of other writings I adore; I suppose that’s the dialectic element of literature my professors so often boast about. The ever-dialogue, the humanity part of the Humanities.
      It’s tough, but I’m a focused person. I’m certain I can get everything done if I toil sufficiently. As always, Trent, it’s so warm to have you by.

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    1. I’ve had that aspiration before but I’ve eventually knelt to the verity that I couldn’t detect it were it ever to elapse. I’d always be searching for a brilliance. I’m unaware if the search is the fount of blindness or if the blindness is the instrument of searching, but either way, I’m certain I could never prefigure myself as an agent any sort of brilliance. Were it so, it wouldn’t be so, I suppose.
      But I’m sure you’ve had many brilliant moments in your life, Agendist. Oh, that I am.

      Liked by 2 people

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