March 29th, 2006

HTOC

(no subject)

I walk up the stairs and looking outside I see sun and shadows and the hope of a warm day.

Those with the duty to forecast inform us that it will be in the fifties today.

Corpses are rising from their graves.

And all of heaven rejoices.



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I find it hard to write about politics these days. This is neither from apathy nor from disinterest. It is from a recently realized, complete lack of understanding and perception into the topic.

I’ve even been finding it hard to write about this life that is Christianity. Again, I have no words, only experiences that defy definition and that are too hazy to compose.

So I write about the weather instead. And I am coming to realize that the weather just might hold the most important words I have to write.
HTOC

Turgenev

BERSENIEV SPEAKS:
“Have you ever noticed…what a strange feeling nature arouses in us? Everything in it is so full, so clear, I mean so satisfied with itself, and we understand that and enjoy it, and at the same time it always, at any rate in me, arouses a kind of disquiet, a kind of anxiety, even sorrow. What is the reason for that? Is it that in her presence, before her face, we are more strongly conscious of all our incompleteness, our lack of clarity, or is that satisfaction which is sufficient for her too little for us, but she hasn’t any other, I mean to say she hasn’t just what we need?”

TO WHICH SHUBIN REPLIES:
“No matter how much you knock at nature’s door, she never answers, because she is dumb. She will sound and whine like a string, but don’t expect a song from her. Now, a living soul – that will respond. Especially if it’s a woman’s”