In spending the morning folding shirts, rolling up socks, cutting my nails, bathing and showering, sipping tea from time to time on the balcony, I succeeded for the first time in conceiving of such activity as a possible way of life (for a while)
Must admit that reading Handke’s is interfering with my getting back to blogging. It feels now that the blog should be something like this, but on the other hand, what an impossible act of solipsism that would be.
My friend Michael Roloff pointed out this blog, being written by a professor of literature in London. He has discovered, or is rediscovering, Peter Handke's aphoristic works, including "The Weight of the World." The first quote above is from Handke, the second from the blogger.
The blogger relates such passages to Joyce's epiphanies, which makes good sense to me.
And finally, the whole set of thoughts leads to questions about a writer's notebook and his or her writing. Teaching a class called WANDERLUST, thinking about travelers who write, I find my mind swinging back and forth between notebook and text, between note and sentence, between observation and explanation.
[HERE a link to the blog]
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