|502> evening redness west of kingdom come can coon a feller to foller|
25 Oct 2016 | Cancoon, Yuckytán> reading Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy .. or shd we say re-re-reading .. fo th 3° tempo .. into rereads of late .. a sortof gauge to how much we (th reader) ha cambiado a través de todo los años .. la 1° vez we red her in th early '90s in Tucson + recuerdo rereading her de nuevo in Nevada probly late '90s .. but dont think we layd eyes cross her sints then .... if th mythickle «great ∀merikin novel» ∃xists then reckon Blood Meridian = th 1 .... violent fo' sure .. but spose such literary bloodshed = nessysorry to comprendo th psyche ∀mericano .. capsures th essence of why ∀merika endid up ass-backwoods th weigh she did .. in pertickler her propensity fo' guns wich we reflectid on a few fortnights ago hanging w/ pastoralists in northern Kenya .. figgering this paranoid gun-toting + waging of terror campains as a legofsea of them lawless dayz when cowboys (th real 1s, that actually herdid 4-footed ruminants) frettid o'er cattle-rustlers ± wild animals + injins .. ore greedy miner-types hoo frettid o'er udders infringing on them staked claims .. cant deny we genetickly related to such types tho we dont feel no kinship tward them + our neck dont bristle red .... as Cormac calls them, «Goldseekers. Itinerant degenerates bleeding westward like some heliotropic plague» .. sides our stint as a geologickle surveyor in th southwest we cant relate nun .. tho also guess th «kid» came born during Leonids '33 (presumably 1833) + we came born during in th hight of Leonids 1966 wich rivaled 1833 .. so hay parallels ahí .. no say, we cant relate nun in conchus state but in subconchus perhaps we aim to x-oresize th rongs of our demonic 4-fathers thru riting weather we saber her ore knot .. th jist of West of Kingdom Come ℝeelin where we aim t' riverse ingenear th rongs of westword xpansion under th flag of manifest destiny .... Cormac on th udder mano no stoy seguro what motivated him but boy kin that feller string together a yarn .... sides just th great ∀merikin novel perhaps th best gothic novel ever writ en cualquier sitio of qwesto moondough .. if u cunsider ∀ll things grotesque @ th heart of what = goth, specially in regards to southern goth .. th passedge of th snake-bit horse as classic case in point, «with its head enormously swollen and grotesque like some fabled equine ideation out of an Attic tragedy. It had been bitten on the nose and its eyes bulged out of the shapeless head in a horror of agony and it tottered moaning toward the clustered horses of the company with its long misshapen muzzle swinging and drooling and its breath wheezing in the throttled pipes of its throat. The skin had split open along the bridge of its nose and the bone shone through pinkish white and its small ears looked like paper spills twisted into either side of a hairy loaf of dough.» .. but then utter passedges pushing father sur int ethereal supernatural frontiers:
27 Oct> ha seado stormy .. rainy + windy, ruff seas .. a wet blanket fo mos turistas pero we sorta dig her .. corrimos ± caminamos a good portion of th spittin sandbar donde queda mos of los hoteles .. beachcombing (aint easy w/ all these dam resorts musterin to block axess) o long th ugly strip ½ th stablishments abadonato o big flashy malls unsitely TGIF spring break crapola .... a far cry form Cormac McCarthy's moondough .. but oh th horrific spectackle of her (if not ∀ll disneyfied ..)
28 Oct> th segund ½ of Blood Meridian aint near so good as th 1° .. th violence over th top makes u sorta numb to her .. + th movement sorta stagnates .. a sorta whorling xponential decline como Cormac ha scrito los primero 12 capitulos then added th initial 2 pgs cuz his editor sed he needid to set th stage (about how th kid came from Tennessee, etc .. ) + then kept rambling on for another 11 chapters cuz his editor sed a classic novel debe ser 300+ pgs .. dunno, just feels forced to distill his childhood int' 2 pages then 135 intense pages about gitting t' Texas w/ good pacing to her .. but then things stagnate like theys gwine in circles pillagin + killin .. south then back north .. gradually west we reckon .. slaughterin every livin critter in their path inklooting 2 puppys th judge buys from a Mexikin kid then w/o d'lay turns + chucks them int' th river .. spose this = th point .. such violent ambulations on a randumb trajectory wandring til there aint no point to nada cept killing/plodding on for th sake of herself, running into a standstill:
.. th marooding jugglernaut stalls .. yet she a trainwreck u cant peel yore eyes from her .. spose sides th landgauge ∫um high-falootin metafizzyckle notions git introduced .. generuley thru th omnipresent narraider (a pity th book dint git writ in 1° person as we mite take mo stock in them words if so):
.. or light gets shed by-way of th judge .. th devil hisself far as we cuncerned in cognito como nakid mole rat .. de veras th spittin image of Trump ± Marlon Brando (playin Dr Moreau) .. but also a cuntrol freak sighingtist .. when aksed why th obssessive need to draw + cullect (if not kill) ∀ll that crosses his path, he sez «Whatever in creation exists without my knowledge exists without my consent» .... @ th end of th day tho Blood Meridian = brooding + cynickle + ∃xistential as ∀ll fuck .. «The mystery is that there is no mystery» + war = «the truest form of divination.» .... knot sure we got th stomick to stomick such notions but them words upon th road thereto make her dam'd worth th wile .. + el diablo todovia baila mientras dormimos .. «Sie müssen schlafen aber Ich muss tanzen» .... + then th sissyfissyian epilog! .. but in sted of humping rocks up hills an unnamed surveyor blasts holes in th prayrie for fence posts .. on a gritty + greedy grid west to xpand this notion of ∀merika as claim'd ∀ll fo what? .. fo ∀ll this vast hippocrisis weave come to?
|501 <( )> 503 > shaving our hairs in pre-emptiv ∃xist ragedy to sneak a peak @ the red barn|