“For days and weeks on end one
racks one’s brains to no avail, and, if asked, one could not say whether one
goes on writing purely out of habit, or a craving for admiration, or because
one knows not how to do anything other, or out of sheer wonderment, despair or
outrage, any more than one could say whether writing renders one more
perceptive or insane. Perhaps we all lose our sense of reality to the degree to
which we are engrossed in our own work, and perhaps that is why we see in the
increasing complexity of our mental constructs a means for greater
understanding, even while intuitively we know that we shall never able to
fathom the imponderables that govern our course through life.”
hard to argue with Sebalds
article of faith his serial ors the possible consensus of those who desired literary conscience
Sebald spoke for writers
he was a wrioter
his conscience was piqued and invaded by blonde tatted behemoths whirling rafts of bees by a pale
tree root which split and upended a concrete walk and together wiring a formidable
python that writhed and snapped at his ankles
all he could ask was for a head startthree
steps then if you could catch him more power to you
he never said how fast he was game speed was a different animal than timed
track speed
his game was faster and physically
bigger than anyone ever gave him credit for
he knew
thats all that was important
he didnt struggle “for days and
weeks on end” or crave admiration
wrioting was a bodily function
as he nourished himself
as he excreted waste
wrioting was there when he went
to sleepwhen he awoke in the morning
then when returning to bed at night he
muttered Lets see if we can take
this up again tomorrowhuh he confused
his cat whose English was limited to his name indie to Didja bring your bowl(at his breakfasts
and dinners) and Time for a treat everything
else was blahblahblah blablah blablah
blah blah(he didnt think indie was
aspirational or heard as he did the music in foreign languages it wasnt necessary
to understand what they said but rather understand how he felt hearing it and what
its cadence or tone implied like jazz)
he couldnt imagine “for days and
weeks on end”
but he didnt writes books
he didnt write to earn money(a
fools errand)
he wrote to wriote
if someone twisted in the wind on
his words
that was plenty
if someone took any kind of
sustenance from the words
that was plenty
after all
he was convinced he was taking dicktation
he
didnt have to worry the length of his skirt or if he crossed or didnt cross his knees
1425, Thursday,
5 7. 17
1293
days remaining or less
page 181 & 182 W G Sebald The Rings of Saturn
Lynyrd Skynyrd Gimme Three Steps https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mrcNs5GQ0fw
Killer Mike (ft. Emily
Panic) Anywhere But Here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3BmqGtZtDGk
Killer Mike R. A. P. Music
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYXP21PvN5E
