Why is it that I can find the journals that record all of my personal traumas and triumphs, as well as a good deal of everything I've read or worked on over the past two years except for the journal that would contain all the notes I made while reading the Biographia Literaria last summer?
Also, how could I have not typed up more than a couple lines of notes from the Biographia? Irritatingly, I'm sure that decision had something to do with taking notes in my journal.
Relatedly: I sometimes wish my life writing and work writing could be more separate because there's really no way for me not to be reminded of what I was doing and feeling as I search to figure out what I was reading. This is sometimes inconvenient. But I don't know how to do otherwise in the moment, and I think that if I were to be able to separate them more effectively, I would start to be a very different (and possibly lesser) scholar.
It's really noisy in the building today, for some reason. Probably time to decamp to school soon and try to finish that damn conference paper.
About Me
- the other woman
- "She did not know if she did it on purpose, but she lived as a fatality the necessity of destining her pleasure to the absent one, who moreover was not always the same, the other of the other always possibly being an other. This is naturally, and here I have to quote her, a 'surplus' of always available pleasure, and a 'fatal deprivation.' After a silence: the day that I love someone, man or woman, I am certain, or I believe that it will stop, in any event this is how I will recognize love. I have loved a lot, however, without ever abandoning myself to those I loved, presently I mean. And up to the present. Another silence (I had already asked for the bill) and without anything provocative or vulgar, with a kind of confidence which I still like to think of: I have the feeling that with you [vous] it would be different." (Derrida, Envois)
2 comments:
The BL is exploding my brain right now, too. I'm supposed to hand in my diss. on Wed., and this chapter on Coleridge is the last thing standing between me and freedom.
Fortunately, since this is a reread, I'm mostly focusing on the response to Wordsworth and the "willing suspension of disbelief" thing. I did do a pretty thorough reading of it last summer, if I could only find it.
Much more exciting is your imminent doctorate-ing. Congrats! Also, you'll have to email me at my real-life address and tell me how the job search worked out.
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