Love Rocks
Last night went to Love Rocks. This is my third year. Have family heavily involved. So I get to go. And support the effort. Think of myself as part of the team.
The team thing.
Has been brought to my attention that I use the word THING a lot/
Made me think.
Le Truc, is French for thing.
In one of Beckett’s books, he uses le truc - a lot.
"truc" in English truc {m} EN contraption stunt thang dodge doohickey jigger tip dingus doings doodah doubry gubbins thingamabob thingamajig what's-its-name what-d'yer-call-it whatsis whatsit special effect thingummy trucs {m pl} EN stuff things gimmickry truc sympa {m} EN cool stuff maudit truc {m} EN damn thing ce truc EN this here contraption truc {m} https://en.bab.la/dictionary/french-english/truc
Started to think about this a lot. His use of Le Truc, repeatedly. Often at end of a string.
In his quest for simplifying.
And how it ends up creating movement, in language itself. A kind of propensity Plotter.
Twain and Dickens do this too, but in different way. With them, heavily surround, with a delectation of qualifiers.
For Beckett its more - his making a cut, to a backswing.
Some things never leave
The horn of plenty. Once found, once begotten into. Helps, for turning lapses, into laps.
Ecstatic frequently lapses into states. Some of which terrify me.
States is an old usage for consciousness of the finite, but within that, infinitely engaged in change, presence, absence, serenity, madness, desire, time, sickness, blowing snow…
And then, death gets up, up and walks toward you, books are the waking walking of the talking, even when dead.
Got hit by a strange stillness, when language turned to lust of dust begot from dead squawking.
And the living of a life…? terribly mischievous and increasingly stark, at the same time.
That Thing: The Unknown
Language, all of a heap, in the corner (by a hob tub), broken apart.
A flaky burnt crust — roundly disjointed. Yet as fevered as ever.
What had been simmering in the cog, had become a drowned life, with a head, still sticking up. Out of clutches of death fat.
And yet a serene aspect too -
With respect to the unknown, silently shadowing me...