Future things then are not yet:

and if they be not yet, 

they are not. And if they are not, 

they cannot be seen.

Yet foretold they may be

from things present which are already and are seen.

–Augustine, Confessions XI

 

Excuse the pause, readers. I’ll be back in a couple weeks. 

Books on Death, cont.

A friend of mine told me about a year ago that it’s only when things are getting good that we start thinking about death like “aww, shit, could come any minute.” All my feelings of invincibility are immediately followed by thinking I will die in a moment. My friends tell me this isn’t normal. I attribute it to some vague memory of abandonment in my childhood—things change fast, when they do.

The first sentence in the novel is Life changes fast. If you’re interested in this notion at all, you should maybe read this book.

I haven’t finished it yet (about 1/3 away) but it’s about time for a post. The novel’s about grief, family, place, and Didion’s memory of it all—Didion’s husband died on December 30th 2003, and her daughter Quintana on August 26th 2005; the book is about Didion’s mental state following the first death, and it also details the various hospitalizations of Quintana from 2003-2004. To let go of two of your closest people within two years? Who DOES that? Who can do it without going mad?

Does anyone else read “depressing” books before they go to bed? “Depressing” is in quotes because I don’t consider this book “depressing”—this book is about a woman acknowledging her memories; it is about the validation of death in a culture that (frequently) choses to youth-anize age, wrap death in a bow and hurry its significance. Isn’t it amazing to think that our friends are not immortal? Isn’t it worthwhile to consider how powerful our memories of people are?

I’m going to finish Magical Thinking this weekend (trip to the Washington Coast with mom). I’ll come back with more. Anyone read this book? Thoughts?

Re-Orientation

A brief on numbers:

Since beginning this project in June, I’ve read 5 books. Since that same month, I have started (including those now finished 5), 12 books in all (Bishop, Plath, McHugh, Herbert, another Woolf, Anne Carson, and Barthes), not including my supplementary anatomy/kinesiology texts I read for school. A quick note about books I start in the midst of other books: they give me a break before I go to sleep. That’s the reason I start them, in the beginning or middle, and don’t have to finish right away.

To repeat, I am doing this whole thing in order to drive myself less crazy.

To update, I feel a lot less crazy having read, cover to cover, 5 books in these last 2ish months. I highly encourage this process of finishing. If nothing else, it actually makes me feel like I have new book friends (creatures with book spines and page appendages). In truth, it makes me happier. I would rather not be in my head sometimes. I hear meditation helps with some balance of this.

I have revised my beginning rules (see first post) because I have bought new books and I have read them (Sappho). I will likely continue doing such things, because, besides a new bicycle, I feel I can invest in books. The newest is Barthes’ A Lover’s Discourse. I refrained from the $15 copy at Elliott Bay and purchased a used on Amazon—usually I check out the used bookstores (got Plath for $7 in excellent condition at Magus Books in U District, touchdown!), but one must treat oneself to mail, once in a while. Therefore, I have saved $3 in order to purchase an Atlas of Anatomy, eventually, which I will share with you soon.

All to say, thanks for reading, my occasional 10 to 20-something views, 1 person in Colombia, and 1 in the UK. Aren’t things getting steamy?

p.s. oh yea, also I gave away one book, and sold back about 13 books to Half Price and received $5. This hurt my soul, but for it (my soul?) I received Sappho, which was worth it, overall.

I said, Sappho

Enough! Why

try to move

a hard heart?

—

 Read this itty bitty book.