Here is a reminder that the first installment of This Is Not a Reading will take place on Monday, September 15th. You should come. Here is something I worked up for the reading and then decided against using:
Using the words “Reading,” “Rainbow,” and “Lburton,” I made this chart:
book: R(18) E(5) A(1) D(4) I(9) N(14) G(7)
page: L(12) B(2) U(21) R(18) T(20) O(15) N(14)
line: R(18) A(1) I(9) N(14) B(2) O(15) W(23)
So, for instance, I went to the 23rd line of the 14th page of the 7th book whose author’s last name began with the letter G (that book being Ferdydurke by Witold Gombrowicz), and found “them with my whole body, but he sat down, so I too had to sit down.” I then, for the sake of meaning and ease, copied out the whole sentence connected to that line:
At the sight of this horribly banal and utterly commonplace Form I threw myself on my texts, covering them with my whole body, but he sat down, so I too had to sit down, and having sat down he proceeded to offer me his condolences on the death of my aunt, who died long ago and whom I had totally forgotten.
After I collected all seven lines/sentences, I deleted and rearranged and deleted some more, and came up with the following paragraph (but sadly no more, which is why I don’t think I’ll be reading this at the not-reading):
My grandfather waits, as the reader must have guessed, in the monastery library. Was there, or was there not, any possibility of breaking the muddy, ominous sort of peace? If there was, the question was how to go about meaning it. And now, as he looked up into his own, he thought for the thousandth time how his heart ached with love. But Mr. Krap tells me that the whole issue’s been reopened, and that its most universal effect is deception; but even its most particular effects have something of the same three local tycoons. At the sight of this horribly banal and utterly commonplace form I threw myself on my whole body. But he sat down, and having sat down he proceeded to offer me his condolences on the death of my grandfather who waits. And during this hiatus, the last of a muddy, ominous sort, I had better get round to describing him. I found no trace of Adso’s manuscript. It was obvious. The resistance of the committee to Mrs. Silver’s smiling face—how pretty she was, how sweet and gentle and full of kindness, and I just met the whole railroad issue, and Bernick’s in conference with the same character. So I too had to sit down, and having sat down long ago, I had totally forgotten.
Instead, I think I’ll be reading from a longer piece written with a smaller rainbow. You should show up and find out what happens!
