annotated and stream-of-consciousness—-(wait, is that possible?)—-anyway, apologies for that, imaginary reader—but i’m troubled by my last post. in which i imply that i am a silly girl and automatically reproach myself for being one.
it’s so healthy to not want to go to your job when it is pointless and alienating and there’s nobody to laugh about it with.
lamentation is healthy if you’re the lamenting type. which sounds like a tautology. but i mean: not everybody is. most people aren’t. but if you are and you know it, and you suppress it, well i believe that way lies madness. and it’s funny—for lack of a better word—to realize that you’d make a great prophet of doom. prophets of doom are funny: think of jonah under his gourd. and the spirit that suffers is also the spirit that comforts—or something like that—i am quoting from memory from a book i can’t remember.
i love melodrama and take it seriously. i feel like there is something very reactionary and suspect about disparaging melodrama.
and i love emma thompson. she’s a real radical feminist and she conveys such righteousness in her roles. i’ve seen carrington about 200 million times. and i think the sense and sensibility movie is better than the book. (though the book is, uh, you know, pretty good.)
this is emily dickinson 985:
The Missing All — prevented Me
From missing minor Things.
If nothing larger than a World’s
Departure from a Hinge —
Or Sun’s extinction, be observed —
‘Twas not so large that I
Could lift my Forehead from my work
which i did a sampler of once upon a time. one of the ten thousand things i’d like to get out of storage. i miss seeing it around.
and “someone says yes to it” is from the making of americans—i used to have strong feelings about this book, and even got evangelical about it. i’m not really sure why. probably because reading it was such a torture it made me lose my mind. like stockholm syndrome. uh. i mean that in a good way.