Monday, November 24, 2014

Plethora.


In the post below I tell you I’m reading a weird book by a guy named Ronald Sukenick and how he is good at writing stuff with his words. This is what he says about the strange multiplicity of things that we call ‘love’:

But I couldn’t admit any of this was love, maybe partly because, as I know now, it wasn’t what we call love. The overload we put on that word just indicates the poverty of our vocabulary.

I have always said there needs to be a plethora of words to replace the English word ‘love’. Some of them should be light and silly and taste like white wine on a summer afternoon, and others need to be thick and heavy and dark and peppery like a Tempranillo in the back of a cafe in the evening, and still others need to be so completely dangerous and radioactive that we keep them under safety glass.

This Sukenick dude really gets me, you know?

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Sukenick Knows.


So I needed something read this morning when I got to campus about 7:30 and so I did as I do and I wandered into the fun part of the library and quite at random I plucked from a shelf the very small novel “Doggy Bag” by Ronald Sukenick (it is maybe six inches tall and four inches wide and less than a half an inch thick, so really I grabbed it because I liked that it would fit in my back pocket) and it is a strange and fascinating little book and about 25 pages in I found this passage about the life of grad students. I think it is fun because it describes my life, but also -- I would imagine -- the life of anyone hunting an advanced degree. Anyway, if you ever wonder why I’m so moody, this is why:


But let me say something first about the life of a graduate student. Suspended as it is between the student world of the undergraduates and the workaday quotidian, and above all, between the perfection of the written word and the abjection of the rotten world, it lacks what you might call ballast. Without friction with the ordinary contingencies and tolerating a high level of anxiety aggravated by too much work and too little pay, it tends to exaggerated swing of mood.

This Sukenick guy knows his shit. Please be prepared for me to spout off more of him.

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Um. The top of this wall does not seem to be working ...



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It is a bright and cold* and windy day today. (*cold by Southern California standards. Sorry Buffalo.)



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