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Corpsey
11-10-2018, 07:46 PM
As in - they've stuck in your mind, they've sent subtle shock waves through your thoughts and feelings, they've become part of you. Stuff you've underlined and made a note of. Could be of anything you've read, could be of stuff you're reading now. As a complinent to the what are you reading thread - what are you remembering, reciting?

I'm gonna be lame now and just say that lately I've often been thinking about "all the world's a stage", in connection with wondering about the self, about creativity in nature and all through biological and astronomical life, all sorts of things. (And Shakespeare's general concerns with people playing roles and being played BY them.)

It is a stage on which you will perform whether or not you know it.

luka
11-10-2018, 08:27 PM
a patchwork quilt of quotes sounds like it could be good.

pattycakes_
11-10-2018, 08:41 PM
Most androids I've known have more vitality and desire to live than my wife. She has nothing to give me.

Just finished Do Androids Dream.. and this line is first up whenever it pops into memory.

In the Westwood Studios PC game of Blade Runner, there's another similar line about the androids yearning to live. I'm not sure why it strikes me as so profound but it does.

luka
11-10-2018, 09:13 PM
here is a list of jh prynne quotes i made for a friend with the names of the poems they are taken from also included.

of sanguine fire
("Outwash and Pie face across the table,
synergic coils wound through the house of
Mercury where they dwell.")
a new tax on the counter-earth
("the stupid slow down and become wise with inertia
and instantly the prospect of money is solemnised to
the great landscape. It actually glows like a stream of
evening sun, value become coinage fixed in the grass crown.")
the ideal star fighter
("the eye converts the news image into fear enzyme")
l'estase de .poher
("Rubbish is pertinent; essential; the most intricate presence
in our entire culture; the ultimate sexual point of the whole place
turned into a model question.")
the kirghis diasters
("the muse in reckless theophany gives a familiar yell")
the bee target on his shoulder
("do not love this man. He makes Fridays unbearable")
a note on metal
("gradually the item-form becomes iconized...
The metonymic unit is established, and number replaces
strength or power as the chief assertion of presence")
chemins de fer
john in the blooded phoenix
a stone called nothing
("the lights dip as the driver presses the starter
and the bus pulls away to leave for the moonstruck
fields of the lower paid.")
questions for the time being
("as Wyndham Lewis tried so fiercely to explain")
thoughts on the esterhazy court uniform
("the place is entirely musical. No person can live there")
aristeas, in seven years
("and sprang with that double twist into the
middle world and thence took flight over the
Scythian hordes and to the Hyperborean,
touch of the north wind
carrying with him Apollo.")
the common gain, reverted
("the nomad is perfect but the pure motion
which has no track is utterly lost")
on the matter of thermal packing
("the skin porous to the eloquence of")
first notes on daylight
("we owe that in theory to the history of person
as an entire condition of landscape")
the glacial question, unsolved
("we live in that question, it is a condition of fact")
bronze : fish
("that's the human city, & we are
now at the edge of it. Which way
are we facing. Burn the great sphere:
count them, days of the week.")
moon poem
("the night is already quiet and I am
bound in the rise and fall: learning
to wish always for more. This is the
means, the extension to keep very steady
so that the culmination will be silent too and flow
with no trace of devoutness")
the western gate
("the formal circuit is inclusion. the line runs
inflected but the shapes are blue & shining.
It is the orbit, tides, the fluctual spread,
we shiver with reason and with love:")
in the long run, to be stranded
("it's time or more clearly
the sequence of year; a thickening in the words
as the coins themselves wear thin")
numbers in time of trouble
("whichever time standard we're on, the question
of how fast and whether it's worth it, we are
underlaid by drift in the form of mantle, and
that should at least be a start")

luka
11-10-2018, 10:26 PM
one for the dematerialisation thread this, from Rilke's 9th Duino Elegy

Praise this world to the Angel, not the untellable: you
can't impress him with the splendour you've felt; in the cosmos
where he more feelingly feels you're only a novice. So show him
some simple thing, refashioned by age after age,
till it lives in our hands and eyes as a part of ourselves.
Tell him things. He'll stand more astonished: as you did
beside the roper in Rome or the potter in Egypt.

Corpsey
12-10-2018, 01:33 PM
Re: the above

Just come across this Blake quotation in a book about Joyce:

"Eternity is in love with the productions of time."

Corpsey
12-10-2018, 05:54 PM
Just finished Do Androids Dream.. and this line is first up whenever it pops into memory.

What is the significance of this quotation for you, or are you completely in the dark?

I don't know who's speaking or the context but it seems to me the interesting part is "She has nothing to offer me". Because it's as if the speaker is judging his wife according to how she acts towards him.

Corpsey
12-10-2018, 05:56 PM
"We're always thinking of eternity as an idea that cannot be understood, something immense. But why must it be? What if, instead of all this, you suddenly find just a little room there, something like a village bath-house, grimy, and spiders in every corner, and that's all eternity is. Sometimes, you know, I can't help feeling that that's what it is."

Dostoevsky on eternity. Or rather, a character of his mistaking eternity, as Macbeth, in his despair, mistakes the existential roar as "sound and fury signifying nothing" (I assume).

luka
12-10-2018, 07:24 PM
jh prynne explaining the basics. from a letter to charles olson

"I am struck with the need to readjust parts of THE CHINESE WRITTEN CHARACTER, as a chap-book,
towards some sense of the hinges in European language or it's northern groupings considered in general.
"the transference of force from agent to object," write Feneollosa, "which constitute natural phenomenoa,
occupy time. Therefore, a reproduction of them in imagination requires the same temporal order." Here EP
interposes the gloss, "Style, that is to say, limpidity, as opposed to rhetoric." Hence the simple declarative
sentence with one transitive & active verb, furnishes the kinetic type. But where are the sources of this force,
how is access to them won out of the ambient silences which surround man on the brink of speech? From
the things themselves has been the answer, and in the final reckoning must always be. Things are nouns, and
particular substantives of this order are potential storehouses of potential energy, hoard up the world's
available motions. But there are other energies: the compelling human necessities, the exhaling of breath,
the sugar which feeds the muscles of the diaphragm and lung. It seems probable that this source was
channeled into speech simultaneously with if not before, the substantive pictogram or derived lexiograph.
To sing is to modulate and make audible the breathing, declare the bodie's functioning, it's various rhythms,
like shouting or the groan of agony."

pattycakes_
12-10-2018, 08:15 PM
What is the significance of this quotation for you, or are you completely in the dark?

I don't know who's speaking or the context but it seems to me the interesting part is "She has nothing to offer me". Because it's as if the speaker is judging his wife according to how she acts towards him.

It's the main character Rick Deckard. He's stuck in a dysfunctional marriage with his depressed wife and he's fallen for one of the androids he's supposed to take out. Guess I like the line because I relate with the android perspective, outside looking in and desiring idealised stuff. And then to tag it with the line about the wife somehow refracts it out into this really bleak image of Rick. Hit me pretty well.

version
12-10-2018, 09:23 PM
“It was written I should be loyal to the nightmare of my choice” (Heart of Darkness) always stood out to me.

thirdform
13-10-2018, 02:48 AM
Re: the above

Just come across this Blake quotation in a book about Joyce:

"Eternity is in love with the productions of time."

which book is this bubz.

yyaldrin
13-10-2018, 10:45 AM
i'm in love with this, from mumbo-jumbo

742

Corpsey
13-10-2018, 07:34 PM
which book is this bubz.

'Ulysses on the Liffey".

padraig (u.s.)
14-10-2018, 04:48 AM
I am always on the lookout for these tbh

have been working my thru the bible- which I'd never read - lately and it is of course absolutely chock full of them. a couple recent faves:

"The end of all flesh is come before me; for the earth is filled with violence through them; and, behold, I will destroy them with the earth"

"Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels...I am become as sounding brass"

padraig (u.s.)
14-10-2018, 04:53 AM
the tomorrow + tomorrow/sound + fury soliloquy from Macbeth, of course

also Marlowe's "But that was in another country/and besides, the wench is dead"

the "deserts of vast eternity line" from To His Coy Mistress has for whatever reason always stuck with me

padraig (u.s.)
14-10-2018, 04:58 AM
This quote from a biography of Alexander the Great I read awhile back, describing prominent Greeks traveling to the Macedonian court for the wedding of Alexander's father Phillip (where Phillip would very famously be publicly murdered, likely at the behest of Alexander's mother for a complicated mix of personal/political reasons)

"they would have seen no further into this land which they knew for its silver-fir forests, free-ranging horses, and kings who broke their word and never died a peaceful death"

idk I think the combination of silver-fir forests and perfidious, precariously violent kings

padraig (u.s.)
14-10-2018, 05:03 AM
“It was written I should be loyal to the nightmare of my choice”
recently read James Ellroy's L.A. Quartet and this is the epigraph of one of the books. The Big Nowhere I think, tho I'd have to check to be sure.

padraig (u.s.)
14-10-2018, 05:17 AM
there is an astounding passage in The True History of the Conquest of New Spain, describing 1st-hand the conquistadors first sight of Tenochtitlan rising out of the mist

it reads better in Spanish but this still gets it across

"And when we saw all those cities and villages built in the water, and other great towns on dry land, and that straight and level causeway leading to Mexico (i.e. Tenochtitlán), we were astounded. These great towns and temples and buildings rising from the water, all made of stone, seemed like an enchanted vision from the tale of Amadis. Indeed, some of our soldiers asked whether it was not all a dream. It is not surprising therefore that I should write in this vein. It was all so wonderful that I do not know how to describe this first glimpse of things never heard of, seen or dreamed of before..."

you have to imagine these basically yokels - conquistadors were largely sons of minor gentry from dusty backwaters like Extremadura, the kind of people who'd travel into the unknown seeking fortune, and their retinues - coming on possibly the greatest city on Earth at that point, at (to them) the very edge of the world.

padraig (u.s.)
14-10-2018, 05:23 AM
there are also some very gnarly passages later on about them entering into a conquered, devastated Tenochtitlan after they'd defeated the Aztecs in an apocalyptic war

I'm talking rubble, piles of dead bodies, pack of feral dogs, survivors of plague and siege shuffling out hollow-eyed past the death of their civilization

granted the Aztecs were pretty unpleasant themselves in many ways, but still, like touring Sodom after God smote it with brimstone etc

luka
15-10-2018, 01:25 PM
As the circumstances around you change and develop, if you don’t change and develop, you get stuck. You get left behind with yourself. You find that you’re in the company of somebody who’s not any longer very interesting. You maintain a kind of dummy interest by simply performing similar antics.

prynne again.
very important this particularly as you enter middle age. the world has a tendency to move on without you unless you are very vigilant and strict with yourself.

Corpsey
16-10-2018, 10:38 AM
prynne again.
very important this particularly as you enter middle age. the world has a tendency to move on without you unless you are very vigilant and strict with yourself.

I feel like this is happening to me already, and I'm 33.

Your personality is formed as a sort of protection against anxiety, it becomes as thick as a cocoon.

Corpsey
16-10-2018, 11:44 AM
I've felt like this a long time really. I suppose some ppl come up against their limitations earlier.

It's why Wild Strawberries is my favourite film that hasn't got superheroes or talking animals in it.

luka
16-10-2018, 12:15 PM
theyre actually not limitations. it just means none of this stuff comes easily. you have to engage fail, try again, keep looking for the entry points. it's a case of getting inside not standing outside looking at it and wondering what the fuss is about. environments are for living in.

luka
16-10-2018, 12:17 PM
everything opens up if you direct your energy into it. but it's up to you.

Corpsey
16-10-2018, 03:14 PM
Yeah I mean more like the defensive walls you've erected around your vulnerability, the force-field you've put up to keep emotion out, which becomes a prison.

It all makes sense, when you're a child and growing up particulary life is like an emotional minefield.

I'm talking about myself. Many people seek out adventure, danger, risk, on a daily basis. Which comes with its own costs ofc.

This all translates into the intellectual sphere too. There are ideas I instinctively shy away from as threatening to my sense of stability.

luka
16-10-2018, 03:46 PM
all of us who have been in toxic environments round toxic people have had that problem. we make a fortress for self-preservation, and it's absolutely essential. we wouldnt have survived without it but then nothing can get in. like you say, we're walled up in there. we've kept some part of ourselves inviolate and unreachable but when the situation changes and we are safe we have to learn to open up again. it's not easy.

version
16-10-2018, 11:49 PM
Joyce and Pynchon. There seems to be something on every page with those two.

version
18-10-2018, 04:33 PM
Joyce and Pynchon. There seems to be something on every page with those two.

Thinking about it, Gravity's Rainbow might be the book that's lit me up the most. It's been seven or eight years since I read it and I still think about it on an almost daily basis.

It's been a prevalent notion. Fallen sparks. Fragments of vessels broken at the Creation. And someday, somehow, before the end, a gathering back to home. A messenger from the Kingdom, arriving at the last moment. But I tell you there is no such message, no such home — only the millions of last moments... nothing more. Our history is an aggregate of last moments.

The angel appearing over Lübeck during the bombing raid is an image I often come back to:

Basher St. Blaise’s angel, miles beyond designating, rising over
Lübeck that Palm Sunday with the poison-green domes underneath its feet, an
obsessive crossflow of red tiles rushing up and down a thousand peaked roofs
as the bombers banked and dived, the Baltic already lost in a pall of incendiary
smoke behind, here was the Angel: ice crystals swept hissing away from the back
edges of wings perilously deep, opening as they were moved into new white
abyss. . . . For half a minute radio silence broke apart. The traffic being:

St. Blaise: Freakshow Two, did you see that, over.

Wingman: This is Freakshow Two—affirmative.

St. Blaise: Good.

No one else on the mission seemed to’ve had radio communication. After
the raid, St. Blaise checked over the equipment of those who got back to base
and found nothing wrong: all the crystals on frequency, the power supplies
rippleless as could be expected—but others remembered how, for the few
moments the visitation lasted, even static vanished from the earphones. Some
may have heard a high singing, like wind among masts, shrouds, bedspring or
dish antennas of winter fleets down in the dockyards . . . but only Basher and
his wingman saw it, droning across in front of the fiery leagues of face, the eyes,
which went towering for miles, shifting to follow their flight, the irises red as
embers fairing through yellow to white, as they jettisoned all their bombs in no
particular pattern, the fussy Norden device, sweat drops in the air all around its
rolling eyepiece, bewildered at their unannounced need to climb, to give up a
strike at earth for a strike at heaven . . . .

thirdform
20-10-2018, 11:54 PM
at once the most correct and the most tragically depressing thing imaginable:

Stuart: A kind of playfulness brings the continuum into being. It works
as an acknowledgment of the contingency, of what cannot be closed,
of what cannot be foreseen, of what will continue to move us on which
is already present in this situation. Although it may not be in a complete,
positive, affirmative voice, but the ironic thing is that there is already
a negative presence already there which we can see around the corner
of the formation that one is working within for the time being. That
is extremely important because so many of the essentialist patriarchal
forms of politics which are without this dimension of pleasure, irony
and play, can’t see that it recapitulates its own forms of exclusion, but
they always do. All of the movements that we have been involved in
have come to that moment of seeing who is not within, of moving
themselves on to those people who consciously have been excluded.
That outside then comes back to trouble and disturb the settled form
of the subject the politics were once engaged in. That happened profoundly
in relation to race in feminism. It is race that is outside of the
discourse. Then it comes back, and allows some people to be sufficiently
troubled by its inclusion, to rethink where they are. The static nature
of essentialist politics depends very much on excluding that modality.

baboon2004
21-10-2018, 10:47 AM
Too many to mention right now, but I'm reading Rilke's 'Letters to a Young Poet' right now (which is unexpectedly hilarious in places, as well as more expectedly being very good):

"To keep growing, silently and earnestly, through your while development; you couldn’t disturb it any more violently than by looking outside and waiting for outside answers to question that only your innermost feeling, in your quietest hour, can perhaps answer.”

"Perhaps many things inside you have been transformed; perhaps somewhere, someplace deep inside your being, you have undergone important changes while you were sad. The only sadnesses that are dangerous and unhealthy are the ones that we carry around in public in order to drown them out with the noise; like diseases that are treated superficially and foolishly, they just withdraw and after a short interval break out again all the more terribly; and gather inside us and are life, are life that is unlived, rejected, lost, life that we can die of.”

luka
21-10-2018, 10:57 AM
Rilke meant so much to me as an adolescent im scared to read him as an adult.
im sure he's right about almost everything though. it's just the level of earnestness
and the language its couched in im wary of. like you say, theres an impulse to laughter.

thirdform
22-10-2018, 08:47 AM
i never read rilke because Adorno categorised him as the literary end of authentic jargon. and authenticity is the enemy of what constitutes good literature for me. i don't think authenticity and purism are necessarily the same thing...

Was teddy wrong?

luka
22-10-2018, 09:46 AM
i've got no idea what that could possibly mean and the idea of letting adorno tell you what poetry to read is as crazy as letting him tell you what jazz records to listen to!

it takes about 2 minutes to read the first duino elegy and get a feel for the project. i don't think it helps to frame it political terms particularly, certainly not straightaway in any case.

thirdform
22-10-2018, 10:44 AM
yes, but adorno was protesting against shitty german jazz and probably state mandated nazi swing. cos it wasn't all degenerate music in those days, as long as the culture industry could function, black music could be utterly divested of its signifiers and serve strictly utilitarian ends.

whereas with literature i always took him to be more grounded in the tradition. everything he says about heidegger is correct, for instance. a philosophy of thinking and not theorising, and of fetishising specific temporary configurations in the absolute whole, without thinking about the absolute is reactionary and fascistic. you can't just surrender everything to the moment, and posit the subject as essentially static. then that creates precisely what is jargon, the ability to take normal every day language we talk in, and emphasise meanings which are buried in it, which express forms of cultural exclusion, of an inhibition of play, of a re-segmentation of fictive categories.

I'll read the elegies though.

luka
22-10-2018, 10:49 AM
poetry is the master discourse. philosophy is secondary discourse.

thirdform
22-10-2018, 05:33 PM
i'd actually say music is the master discourse that unites poetry and philosophy. only through the universalness and tangibility of sound can you even begin to conceptualise higher cosmic dimensions. it's like an alchemical process, it burns off the excess but leaves a high note. those high arp strings in jazz funk or the high end percussive trickery of dub for instance. incidentally this is also why dub isn't merely echo but a total reconfiguration of how we approach space.

luka
22-10-2018, 05:34 PM
see 'cultural cowardice' thread.

baboon2004
22-10-2018, 07:27 PM
Rilke meant so much to me as an adolescent im scared to read him as an adult.
im sure he's right about almost everything though. it's just the level of earnestness
and the language its couched in im wary of. like you say, theres an impulse to laughter.

"You must pardon me, dear Sir, for waiting until today to gratefully remember your letter of February 24. I have been unwell all this time, not really sick, but oppressed by an influenza-like debility, which has made me incapable of doing anything."

luka
22-10-2018, 07:41 PM
"You must pardon me, dear Sir, for waiting until today to gratefully remember your letter of February 24. I have been unwell all this time, not really sick, but oppressed by an influenza-like debility, which has made me incapable of doing anything."

a truly delicate flower.

version
23-10-2018, 05:44 PM
The Hellfire Sermon in Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man put the fear of God in me, felt like I should drop everything and run to the nearest church.

Corpsey
31-10-2018, 11:51 AM
Noted this with interest in Ezra Pound's Paris Review interview:

"Technique is the test of sincerity. If a thing isn’t worth getting the technique to say, it is of inferior value. All that must be regarded as exercise."

Corpsey
31-10-2018, 02:30 PM
Hopefully not making this a thread in which I just record vaguely interesting stuff from books. But OTOH, why not?

In Martin Gayford's 'The Yellow House', Gauguin describing the Third Republic as a "trompe-l'śil" republic.

And Van Gogh accidentally (through sloppy French) describing the sun, not as 'sulphur' but as 'suffering'.

DannyL
07-11-2018, 10:21 PM
Not a quote but I want to share this.

Nearing 40

Insomniac since four, hearing this narrow,

rigidly metred, early-rising rain

recounting, as its coolness numbs the marrow,

that I am nearing forty, nearer the weak

vision thickening to a frosted pane,

nearer the day when I may judge my work

by the bleak modesty of middle age

as a false dawn, fireless and average,

which would be just, because your life bled for

the household truth, the style past metaphor

that finds its parallel however wretched

in simple, shining lines, in pages stretched

plain as a bleaching bedsheet under a guttering

rainspout; glad for the sputter

of occasional insight,

you who foresaw

ambition as a searing meteor

will fumble a damp match and, smiling, settle

for the dry wheezing of a dented kettle,

for vision narrower than a louvre’s gap,

then, watching your leaves thin, recall how deep

prodigious cynicism plants its seed,

gauges our seasons by this year’s end rain

which, as greenhorns at school, we’d

call conventional for convectional;

or you will rise and set your lines to work

with sadder joy but steadier elation,

until the night when you can really sleep,

measuring how imagination

ebbs, conventional as any water clerk

who weighs the force of lightly falling rain,

which, as the new moon moves it, does its work

even when it seems to weep.

Derek Walcott

DannyL
25-11-2018, 09:11 PM
I thought, in other words, that I could always recover. I was only beginning to learn that the dead stay everlastingly present among us, taking the form of palpable vacancies that only disappear when, as we must, we take them into ourselves. We take the dead inside of us; we fill their voids with our own substance; we become them. The living dead do not belong to a race of fantasy, they constitute the inhabitants of Earth. The longer we live, the more numerous the inviting holes death opens up in our lives, and the more we add to the death inside, until we embody nothing else.And when we in turn we die, those who survive embody us, the whole of us, our individual selves and the crowd of dead men and women we have carried within us.

Harry Matthews, Cigarettes.

The remainder of the novel (this is from the last page) is incredible but I'm not going to type it all out right now.