Recent reading

  • The Anatomy of Freedom. Robin Morgan.
  • Darwin's Blade. Dan Simmons.
  • A Stranger to Myself. Willy Peter Reese.
    From the journals of a young German soldier in the disastrous campaign in, and retreat from, Russia,1941-1944. He was a well-read student of literature, and his writing has a literary, almost flowery, style not usually seen in American war memoirs. But no style can obscure the dehumanizing effects of war, especially industrial war, mechanized war. By the end Willy cannot bear being home on leave; he feels simultaneously destroyed by the war, and only alive when he is in the war. His isolation is intensified for us as we read because not a single person is named or distinguished: not his vague girlfriends, not his fellow soldiers. None of the soldiers has a continuing identity ("sickly Erhard" or "that ignorant fellow from Silesia") from one incident to the next. They are just soldiers. The whole thing has a sort of floating fever-dream feel to it. That must be appropriate, for a book about man's greatest sickness. The author was missing and presumed killed in 1944.
  • Hey Nostradamus! Douglas Coupeland.
  • The Cave. Jose Saramago.

July 2006

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Goldenhelmet

Classy irony. "In every organized..." paragraphy gave me a fine chuckle. Well, what Edens could you expect from campfires of camel dung?

Goldenhelmet

Manumition may seem an ancient word, but it reflects the oldest argument - just who or what has the divine sovereignty of the individual soul; the self, the family, the church, the state, or some omnipresence floating about all hoogy boogy. Of course the answer is 'all of the above'. If those who would speak for God, or interpret his (her's, it's) celestial word were to come face to face with their own mortality and the toxic results of their own decisions, perhaps the fantasy of unageing immortality and the puriety of thought in order to please Him, Her, It, Them, would decrease its coloration of the splendid waters. OPE wasn't a joke. Why can't terminal patients chose LSD as one of their depating understandings? When will the Puritans stop trying to convince us that It is all our problem, and not cop to the doping of the Cioaga and Mississippi, et al. Genocides happen is more ways that machetes, pistols, rifles, gas chambers have yet to demonstrate. The art show of the mosque will not be enhanced by the presence of exploding women. Nor will the flesh spattered tile feed health, providence, longevity and honest dealings amongst the adherents. You could try to hack through A.C.'s facist facade with a diamond ax and never find the gleam of recognition in the eye of the mother to the daughter. And if that is the case among the wobble-heads, and it is, its no wonder the cathedrals of cash are Bauhaus, our art smaltzy, our literature timid, our ethos slivers of lies. All my heart's the world's womb, as is yours, and on the hub of any note we stand in our miracle complexity. Isn't that enough?

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