In April 2017 I wrote the following post in an experiment, a form of improvised association and regathering of the fragments of my mind. I will write some more of these kinds of posts soon. Please enjoy. Sponges, metamorphoses and psyche (originally posted 23 April 2017) After a morning during which I searched my ravagedContinueContinue reading “Sponges, metamorphoses and psyche”
Category Archives: literature
Sebald’s sentences
“Max” W.G. Sebald wrote some of the most mesmerising sui generis texts of 20th century literature. His Rings of Saturn is a collection of essays on silk, travel, depression, genocide and the prose marvel, Thomas Browne – a Borgesian list sewn together with deep meditation. This great work transformed my sense of possibility with writing,ContinueContinue reading “Sebald’s sentences”
Cantos from a cage
Today I am reposting this reflection on the true heritage of Ezra Pound, Cantos from a cage, which I originally posted in April 2018. I have borrowed from the local library, Daniel Swift The Bughouse: the poetry, politics and madness of Ezra Pound (2017) that tries “to make our peace, as best we can, withContinueContinue reading “Cantos from a cage”
This grey spirit seeking a sinking star
But more so than the moulted carapace of governing that lies at my feet, I connected to the adventurer of the spirit, weakened by age and misfortune, that Tennyson saw in Ulysses. It was this grey spirit that I turned to this morning for the courage to continue.
Taking time with Szymborska
I have established several practices for the New Year to make it a more mindful, culturally enriched and satisfying year than the plague year of 2020, now buried in an urn of oblivion. I have begun a bullet journal to record habits, moods, and experiences, and in which to write the plans and dreams ofContinueContinue reading “Taking time with Szymborska”
My last words on 2020 from Thomas Browne’s Urn Burial
Oblivion. Death. The rites we practise to farewell the dead. What better themes to end 2020? This afternoon I have begun a reading plan for 2020 that incorporates listening to audio books, and in one afternoon I have completed, while talking a lunchtime walk and doing the pre-dinner dishes, the magnificent sentences of Thomas Browne’sContinueContinue reading “My last words on 2020 from Thomas Browne’s Urn Burial”
Fragments from the Burning Archive: Mikhail Bakhtin
I plunged again into my white box of old handwritten index cards today, and pulled from the archive, laid down in my twenties and thirties, a fragment from Mikhail Bakhtin (1895-1975), the Russian literary critic and philosopher. The text comes from a late work of Bakhtin, Speech Genres, although I took the text from ClarkContinueContinue reading “Fragments from the Burning Archive: Mikhail Bakhtin”
Fragments from the Burning Archive: Anna Akhmatova
In my study is a box of old index cards with fragmentary thoughts, notes on narratives and characters, and quotations taken from my reading. The box is labelled “Notes to Digitise,” and perhaps that will one day be a retirement project. But for now it is a stimulus to dig deep down into the BurningContinueContinue reading “Fragments from the Burning Archive: Anna Akhmatova”
Cultural collapse: Delhi 1857
Today, I am reposting this response to William Dalrymple’s magnificent The Last Mughal: the Fall of a Dynasty, Delhi 1857. I wonder if, over the next 5 to 10 years, we will be conducting sad online mushairas (poetic symposiums) and singing laments for the collapse of the Washington court? Cultural collapse: Delhi 1857 (February 4,ContinueContinue reading “Cultural collapse: Delhi 1857”
Axel’s Castle, a mirror and an encyclopaedia
Today I am reposting this post from April 2, 2018 that reflected on some of the literary symbols that formed uncanny fascinators in my mind. *** When I was about fifteen, I found Edmund Wilson’s Axel’s Castle in a library. It was my introduction to literary modernism, and their progenitors, the French symbolists. Over timeContinueContinue reading “Axel’s Castle, a mirror and an encyclopaedia”
An interlude on Solzhenitsyn
Prophets are despised in their own country, and now and then I am tempted deeply by Cassandra’s fate. So in appreciation of true prophets and great writers, who formed my understanding of the world as a young man, here are some brief testimonies of Alexander Solzhenitsyn. “If one is forever cautious, can one remain aContinueContinue reading “An interlude on Solzhenitsyn”
The Coming Renaissance of the Second Culture
Terrible events occur in history that devastate the cities that our minds build. The Barbarians sack Rome, and other-named disasters have similarly brought ruin to all past civilisations across time and the globe. It is hard not to see, from my crumbling Tower of Thucydides, in all the obscure runes of our time, a similarContinueContinue reading “The Coming Renaissance of the Second Culture”
Poem: Two voices vie in my head
This poem is a dialogue about how we are to act in this moment of cultural decay, when we face a choice between living in lies or taking the path of Benedict. Two voices vie in my head Two voices vie in my head: You must fight and take arms Against the inquisitors of theContinueContinue reading “Poem: Two voices vie in my head”
Poem: la noche oscura
la noche oscura Not darkness, obscurity.Not shadow, life with no light. Not grasping at goals, but falling into the chasm.Not knowing the secrets, but shattering the lies from which we drink truth. Not blinded in black, but hidden in light.Not loss alone, but loss that liberates. Not denial of the real, but refusal of attachmentNotContinueContinue reading “Poem: la noche oscura”
Captain Ahab and Lockdown in Melbourne
Historians (and I am one) will search for cultural archetypes that explain the strange delusions of power that have inflicted a captivity on the citizens of Melbourne and Victoria. In a state of 6.5 million people, there have been, on this day, 20 September 2020, a mere 14 positive tests for the presence of fragments,ContinueContinue reading “Captain Ahab and Lockdown in Melbourne”
Poem: The personal is poetical
Today a poem composed in the conviction that to save our culture we must diminish the role of the political in our lives. The personal is poetical The personal is poeticalAnd not a domain to be ruled It shatters on contact with powerSlides away from shouts on streets Seeks out soft silent sheltersWhere in aContinueContinue reading “Poem: The personal is poetical”
Poem: Breathless
Today I am posting another poem from The Sleep Machine. Breathless Could it be the new coronavirus?Or just the old common cold? Should I get tested or resistThe reckless screams of data collectors? After all, chances are it is just hayfeverAnd my body is not about to collapse In the terror of the cytokine storm.EvenContinueContinue reading “Poem: Breathless”
Poem: Curfew, Melbourne 2020
Curfew, Melbourne 2020 Unimaginable city, locked down in its dark tomb,Its streets masked for an uncommon cold. Now all movement and strangeness stopped at 8 pm.Some turn in in fear; we turn inward in defiance. We will not be interred within five kilometres of home,Not by the impatient doctors and erring statisticians Who mutter theContinueContinue reading “Poem: Curfew, Melbourne 2020”
Poem: the way out machine
The way out machine I enclose my breath in a maskIn the distance we keep for fearPump hope into my lungs And begin to dreamOf the way out machineThat will free us from The dictatorship of the physicians. Melbourne, July 2020
Poem: Another generation passes me by
Another generation passes me by Another generation passes me byI sit and know my time will not come.I retreat into this room of textsWhere I imagine parleys with the dead. Machiavelli tells me of civil strifeAnd the virtue that our republics forget.He comforts me with the exile’s lament:I will not enter that walled city ofContinueContinue reading “Poem: Another generation passes me by”