A Glastonbury Romance.

catalog

Well-known member
Really? I wanna read bleak house next, once I get a proper copy, then I'll have a crack at porius if that's right title. Apparently that's the masterpiece
 

luka

Well-known member
I've finished it. Nothing else like it in my experience besides those children's books I mentioned earlier in the thread. Highly recommend it.
 

luka

Well-known member
I've got Weymouth sands here but it's another monster. Might read a Dickens in between since I was claiming to like him so much last night
 

luka

Well-known member
Started Weymouth Sands now. Cowper Powys, check him out, he's the Next Big Thing

“I touch here upon what is to me one of the profoundest philosophical mysteries: I mean the power of the individual mind to create its own world, not in complete independence of what is called ‘the objective world’, but in a steadily growing independence of the attitudes of the minds toward this world. For what people call the objective world is really a most fluid, flexible, malleable thing. It is like the wine of the Priestess Bacbuc in Rabelais. It tastes differently; it is a different cosmos, to every man, woman, and child. To analyse this ‘objective world’ is all very well, as long as you don't forget that the power to rebuild it by emphasis and rejection is synonymous with your being alive.” — John Cowper Powys
 

luka

Well-known member
"Let me me show 'ee me seaweed-book, will 'ee? 'Tis in hay-loft where I do sleep."

Weymouth Sands.
 

version

Well-known member
Really? I wanna read bleak house next, once I get a proper copy, then I'll have a crack at porius if that's right title. Apparently that's the masterpiece
"Porius is a genus of Papuan jumping spiders that was first described by Tamerlan Thorell in 1892."
 

luka

Well-known member
"in talking to God he never called himself "I" or "me or "your servant" or even Sylvanus; he always called himself "Caput." But even this was not enough; for, since the Absolute was Everything, it was necessary to place the lowest function of the body side by side with the highest. Thus to the word Caput, of speaking of himself to God, what must this fantastical being do but add the word "Anus", which had the double advantage of indicating his spasmodic body-shame, and, in incidentally, of rhyming with Sylvanus! As he lay there, in that incredibly hushed pre-dawn, thrilled through and through by a diffused sensuality, his mind gave up the struggle to reconcile his Absolute with the cruelty of things, for this began to seem beyond his power; and in place of it he wrestled with the Spirit in a frantic effort to make it include the Gross, the Repulsive, the Disgusting.
"Show yourself to Caput-Anus! Oh, God, Oh, God, show yourself, show yourself to Caput-Anus!"

Weymouth Sands
 

luka

Well-known member
I finished Weymouth Sands yesterday. It's a good book but it's a minor work compared to a Glastonbury Romance.
 

Mr. Tea

Let's Talk About Ceps
"in talking to God he never called himself "I" or "me or "your servant" or even Sylvanus; he always called himself "Caput." But even this was not enough; for, since the Absolute was Everything, it was necessary to place the lowest function of the body side by side with the highest. Thus to the word Caput, of speaking of himself to God, what must this fantastical being do but add the word "Anus", which had the double advantage of indicating his spasmodic body-shame, and, in incidentally, of rhyming with Sylvanus! As he lay there, in that incredibly hushed pre-dawn, thrilled through and through by a diffused sensuality, his mind gave up the struggle to reconcile his Absolute with the cruelty of things, for this began to seem beyond his power; and in place of it he wrestled with the Spirit in a frantic effort to make it include the Gross, the Repulsive, the Disgusting.
"Show yourself to Caput-Anus! Oh, God, Oh, God, show yourself, show yourself to Caput-Anus!"

Weymouth Sands
So has this guy got kind of a thing about bumholes or what?
 

luka

Well-known member
‘What matters is to eat and excrete. Dish and pot, dish and pot, these are the poles.’

Samuel Beckett, Malone Dies
 
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