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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adj.

I am reading a book called “The Lover’s Dictionary” by David Levithan. It is a small novel about love the narrative is structured into the form of a dictionary. It is interesting. I’m not quite sure if it pulls it off, but it is interesting.

This is one of the entries that I just read:

ineffable, adj

These words will ultimately end up being the barest of reflections, devoid of the sensations words cannot convey. Trying to write about love is ultimately like trying to have a dictionary represent life. No matter how many words there are, there will never be enough.

Good stuff.

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Blowtorch.

Blowtorch


by james bezerra



If, around your heart, you dug a moat

I would build a simple boat

and float to you.



If you put your heart in the bank

under lock and key

I would stage a daring daylight robbery.



If you scuttled your heart to the bottom of the sea

you should not think that would stop me

from mounting a deep sea recovery.



If you sealed your heart in a block of ice

I wouldn’t even think twice

about melting it free.

With a blow torch, if need be.



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