from a dead tongue

I have to keep mentioning this timelessness because the phenomenon irritates the part of the mind over which time’s passage registers, so that instants, seconds, minutes are painfully real; but hours-much less days and weeks-are left-over noises from a dead tongue.

I’ve lost a name.  So? If the inhabitants of this city have one thing in common, it is that such accidents don’t interest them; that is neither lauded here as freedom nor wailed as injury; it is taken as a fact of landscape, not personality.

The advantage of transcribing your own conversation: It’s the only chance you have to be articulate.

I can think of four things that have happened in the nest I would like to have described when they occurred, but they so completed themselves in the happening that even to refer to them seems superfluous.

What is down, then, is a chronicle of incidents with a potential for wholeness they did not have when they occurred; a false picture, again, because they show neither the general spread of our life’s fabric, nor the most significant pattern points.

I don’t know if they really occurred. That would take another such burst. All I have been left is the exhausting habit of trying to tack up the slack in my life with words. -Samuel R. Delany, Dhalgren

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~ by ironcupshrug on 04/24/2010.

2 Responses to “from a dead tongue”

  1. I hear Brad Pitt is supposed to be a total dick of a dad in The Tree of Life.

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