ArchivesSite MapSubmitOur GangContact UsHot Sites
tearing the rag off the bush again
First, on a frigid April night in 2007, knowing now for certain that the Corpse was going to rise this moonless night or the next, I thought that I’d just read. All around me, screaming silently à la E. Münch, the towers of unread books turned and turned toward me, a tiny man of flesh with no time on his hands or anywhere else on his body. I should have read everything ages ago, but no matter, I would just start. And so I did, and then began to comment. The Corpse rose and fell for many moonless nights, and still I read. And still I commented. Finally, on the 33d day, I decided to upload thoughts of what I’d read. But how upload when some books were thick and others thin, some written by famous authors, others barely written, or not written at all, but simply spewed? How could I upload the thick with the thin, the famed with the wisps? Chronologically? But following what chronology? When I’d read and commented them, or by when they were written? Should I upload the famous first and the less famous last? Or should I upload by my own esteem, the most esteemed first, the least esteemed last? Or should I poll the critics and upload by their esteem? But there was a rub, ah yes. The books I’d read and was reading and am reading as I type, were in several languages, mostly English and Romanian. Should I upload segregated quarters or should I like the Bible be universal? At long last, I uploaded at random, by thickness: the thickest first, the thinnest last. English, Romanian, Urdu, it didn’t matter: thick first, thin last. That was back then, on a moonless night. Many moons later now I hold what has to be my head in my hands. Well, I did, now I’m typing, but as I type I realize the genius of our Language: ye Gods! The alphabet! And so it is that neither chronology, nor fame, nor rain, nor size matters. Henceforth, all books will go quietly under the first letter of their author’s last name, indifferent of provenance, pedigree, or lingo. My column will go on and continue to grow, as old and young, sturdy and flimsy, newly read books will line up under the alphabet like e-poplars along the T-river road. AC
< Prev