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Thread: What Are You Reading?

  1. #661
    (TwentyThree) Two Faced Egg (23)'s Avatar
    Join Date: 01.28.15
    Posts: 702
    Rank: Crimson Soil

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    Quote Originally Posted by FeedYourHead View Post
    Tangent:


    It’s actually not called For Whom The Be Tolls, it’s prose from the meditation I linked. “For Whom the Bell Tolls” was written by Ernest Hemingway, inspired by Donne. And I dare say neither of those works possess the literary merit quite like this Jefferson Airplane song.

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_majRjzpnW8
    Uh huh :)

    Yeah, I copy pasted it that way from a blog my where my friend was writing about my life ( The Silence Breakers / #metoo ) and had included this video
    https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=wI4nRD-DRpk
    With the pun "Approaching the Toll Gate with Lonnie" , get it? Hehe my name is Lonnie, anyways that is why it written as whom the bell 'Tolls' ;)
    It was all a funny coincidence too, I had been reading with interest everyone's post about Mr.Donne and the next day it just turned out that way :D

    I am rereading - The Man in the High Castle by Philip K Dick

    The Grasshopper Lies Heavy

    Cheers
    23
    . . the fear takes hold

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  3. #662
    Enname's Avatar
    Join Date: 06.04.16
    Location: Dis.
    Posts: 564
    Rank: Crimson Soil

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    Quote Originally Posted by FeedYourHead View Post
    It couldn’t have been a bee or an ant because it had to be a vector which was well known for drawing and carrying around/mixing human blood.......
    Given the anatomical knowledge of the period around most insects, it could have been any number of vectors. Ah, alas this is what happens when I am replying on my phone and have no access to anything other than a few poems of his. Hard to cross compare with the less obvious love poems from his early period, also I presumed no one wanted an actual thesis. :D


    EDIT:E nname I’m curious what your opinion of Emily Dickinson is style-wise based on what you’ve expressed about Donne’s style.
    I am going to have to ask you for a bit more specificity there. The woman did write some 1800 poems with multiple styles, excluding prose and letters! I presume you are meaning the age old debate about whether she was a hermit prude, or a cloistered hedonistic lesbian/sexuality of choice?


    Quote Originally Posted by Suedehead View Post
    I'm fevourishly googling metaphysical erotica now. Thank you. Never thought a poem about a flea threeway could be so poignant.
    Well I think it is, but it appears I may be the stand out in this regard, lol.



    For good measure, I am also reading:

    Les Bienveillantes (The Kindly Ones) from Jonathan Littell.

    Given it is in French and a billion pages long, I'll get back to you in about four months as to what I think of it.
    Quid ignorantia sit multi ignorant.

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  5. #663
    Raspberry Syncope FeedYourHead's Avatar
    Join Date: 07.06.09
    Location: New York, NY
    Posts: 2,052
    Rank: 15 Gauge

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    Quote Originally Posted by Enname View Post
    Given the anatomical knowledge of the period around most insects, it could have been any number of vectors. Ah, alas this is what happens when I am replying on my phone and have no access to anything other than a few poems of his. Hard to cross compare with the less obvious love poems from his early period, also I presumed no one wanted an actual thesis. :D


    I am going to have to ask you for a bit more specificity there. The woman did write some 1800 poems with multiple styles, excluding prose and letters! I presume you are meaning the age old debate about whether she was a hermit prude, or a cloistered hedonistic lesbian/sexuality of choice?
    I mean, 200 years after the plague kind of makes me think they probably had some vector transmission knowledge figured out by then but, perhaps not.

    I wanted your opinion of her poetry style and how you feel it compares to Donne’s.


  6. #664
    Enname's Avatar
    Join Date: 06.04.16
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    Quote Originally Posted by FeedYourHead View Post
    I mean, 200 years after the plague kind of makes me think they probably had some vector transmission knowledge figured out by then but, perhaps not.

    I wanted your opinion of her poetry style and how you feel it compares to Donne’s.
    17-18th century was the peak of plague infections, and they didn't really figure out vector transmission properly until later in global exploration and colonialism. Nothing like killing off indigenous populations en masse to have a corpus of samples to study. So to speak.

    Ah, okay. I will get back to you on that :)
    Quid ignorantia sit multi ignorant.

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  8. #665
    Married to Shangri-LIE Suedehead's Avatar
    Join Date: 06.24.17
    Location: The Cold Spot
    Posts: 123
    Rank: Brilliant Slut

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    Quote Originally Posted by Enname View Post
    Well I think it is, but it appears I may be the stand out in this regard, lol.
    I genuinely adored it, so you are by no means alone.

    This thread has inspired me to revisit Dylan Thomas, I've always been on the fence as to whether he is the best thing to come out of Wales since radar or the equals sign or a charlatan of dubious intellect whose poetry is inconsistent and exiguous in its message. I don't think I'll ever form a congruent opinion but I do kind of like this:

    Light breaks where no sun shines;
    Where no sea runs, the waters of the heart
    Push in their tides;
    And, broken ghosts with glow-worms in their heads,
    The things of light
    File through the flesh where no flesh decks the bones.

    A candle in the thighs
    Warms youth and seed and burns the seeds of age;
    Where no seed stirs,
    The fruit of man unwrinkles in the stars,
    Bright as a fig;
    Where no wax is, the candle shows its hairs.

    Dawn breaks behind the eyes;
    From poles of skull and toe the windy blood
    Slides like a sea;
    Nor fenced, nor staked, the gushers of the sky
    Spout to the rod
    Divining in a smile the oil of tears.

    Night in the sockets rounds,
    Like some pitch moon, the limit of the globes;
    Day lights the bone;
    Where no cold is, the skinning gales unpin
    The winter's robes;
    The film of spring is hanging from the lids.


    Light breaks on secret lots,
    On tips of thought where thoughts smell in the rain;
    When logics dies,
    The secret of the soil grows through the eye,
    And blood jumps in the sun;
    Above the waste allotments the dawn halts.

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