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– a sense that somehow the historical and cultural situation has somehow turned such that it is arranged in a configuration that is on longer receptive to you, your thinking, your interjection.

– that ever so recently the world was a workbook of problem sets you were consistently able to solve and so very rapidly

– having done some sort of intellectual damage to yourself through the struggles (biological, psychological) you have endured recently in simply living

– you are aging and as you age time speeds up

– stuffy head, the pressure behind the eyes, the tightness in the chest

– there simply isn’t in the day, no matter how clear, the when and where

– again and again, the same thought of Kafka, whose image hangs about your neck on a string of wellworn rosary beads

– the internet, or missing breakfast

– always another obligation, which preoccupies you from the second that you get up

– you are not taking things in the right order

– perhaps it’s all of us at once

– problems that you are spending so much energy trying to solve are boring and thus you are bored

– becoming forgetful, a memory issue

– there is something or someone you are missing

– there is probably a computer program available to help

– the old forms are broken and your frustration and inability is itself a mark of your deeper aptitude

– the sense that there is another way to work, one fully compatible with or even a development directly out of your current situation

– or that if you wait for a bit, if you are patient, perhaps the high pressure system will settle once more over your life and the world itself, and you will find yourself standing in full light under a blue sky again, able at last to see

Written by adswithoutproducts

February 10, 2011 at 1:19 pm

4 Responses

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  1. Le temps, qui veille à tout, a donné la solution malgré toi. Le temps qui connaît la réponse a continué de couler. C’est un jour comme celui-ci, un peu plus tard, un peu plus tôt, que tout recommence, que tout commence, que tout continue. Cesse de parler comme un homme qui rêve. Regarde ! Regarde-les. Ils sont là des milliers et des milliers, sentinelles silencieuses, Terriens immobiles, plantés le long des quais, des berges, le long des trottoirs noyés de pluie de la Place Clichy, en pleine rêverie océanique, attendant les embruns, le déferlement des marées, l’appel rauque des oiseaux de mer. Non. Tu n’es plus le maître anonyme du monde, celui sur qui l’histoire n’avait pas de prise, celui qui ne sentait pas la pluie tomber, qui ne voyait pas la nuit venir. Tu n’es plus l’inaccessible, le limpide, le transparent. Tu as peur, tu attends. Tu attends, Place Clichy, que la pluie cesse de tomber.


    February 10, 2011 at 4:05 pm

  2. Is there nothing the internet cannot do?


    February 10, 2011 at 4:12 pm

  3. “celui sur qui l’histoire n’avait pas de prise”

    Jesus, well that’s quite a quote. Nicely, nicely drawn.

    I need to read more Perec (really a glaring omission, given what I do) and will pick up a load from my office tomorrow.


    February 10, 2011 at 10:37 pm

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