textualidentity.blogspot.com

Textual Identity

A journey into meta-textual existence. This week: 140, 216 RTD. ****! Posted by b g s. It was Charles De Gaulle Airport, but the year was 1923. Before commercial air travel was possible. It was the era of large vessels a sea, floating from one coast to another, as it hauled ticketed passengers with luggage case upon luggage case and stowaways with nothing but the clothing on their backs. Yet, somehow, airplanes were taking off and landing at the field. Who told you anything about me? I could never say th...

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Textual Identity | textualidentity.blogspot.com Reviews

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A journey into meta-textual existence. This week: 140, 216 RTD. ****! Posted by b g s. It was Charles De Gaulle Airport, but the year was 1923. Before commercial air travel was possible. It was the era of large vessels a sea, floating from one coast to another, as it hauled ticketed passengers with luggage case upon luggage case and stowaways with nothing but the clothing on their backs. Yet, somehow, airplanes were taking off and landing at the field. Who told you anything about me? I could never say th...

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1 ir a principal

2 ir a lateral

3 textual identity

4 posts rss

5 comments rss

6 a poll

7 christine

8 off

9 hervé

10 muzil

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Textual Identity | textualidentity.blogspot.com Reviews

https://textualidentity.blogspot.com

A journey into meta-textual existence. This week: 140, 216 RTD. ****! Posted by b g s. It was Charles De Gaulle Airport, but the year was 1923. Before commercial air travel was possible. It was the era of large vessels a sea, floating from one coast to another, as it hauled ticketed passengers with luggage case upon luggage case and stowaways with nothing but the clothing on their backs. Yet, somehow, airplanes were taking off and landing at the field. Who told you anything about me? I could never say th...

INTERNAL PAGES

textualidentity.blogspot.com

1

Textual Identity: A retelling, the beginning of a non-novel and the story of collective memory

http://textualidentity.blogspot.com/2009/04/retelling-beginning-of-non-novel-and.html

A journey into meta-textual existence. A retelling, the beginning of a non-novel and the story of collective memory. Posted by b g s. 8220;Now I don’t. I used to love him. Now I don’t.”. It’s simple really. I just tell and retell the same story over and over again. Piece by minute piece. Moments at a time until something sticks. Until something becomes etched. And once I’m done, I pick a different piece and start over. It was an easy time then. Story within a story:. I walked around the salon for hours&#...

2

Textual Identity: April 2009

http://textualidentity.blogspot.com/2009_04_01_archive.html

A journey into meta-textual existence. Searching for self in the possibility of a possibility. Posted by b g s. Labels: Possibility of Self. This work talks about itself. And, with every word, it explores the impossibility of its own existence. 8220;Won’t do no good to hold no séance,. What’s gone is gone and you can’t bring it back around. Won’t do no good to hold no searchlight,. You can’t illuminate what time has anchored down. Won’t do no good to sing no love song,. Man is fundamentally impotent.).

3

Textual Identity: Anne Carson, the destruction of art and an inventory of space

http://textualidentity.blogspot.com/2009/04/anne-carson-destruction-of-art-and.html

A journey into meta-textual existence. Anne Carson, the destruction of art and an inventory of space. Posted by b g s. The most exciting poet writing in English today.". The entirety of art serves to tell one story, the story of loss. The story of destruction. The irony (read: what makes it art) is that the story of loss is inevitably told by means of creation. What you would see: A blue striped polo shirt (base color darker than that of the stripes), black slacks, orange socks, brown shoes. Her (Anne Ca...

4

Textual Identity: June 2009

http://textualidentity.blogspot.com/2009_06_01_archive.html

A journey into meta-textual existence. A reprisal of sorts. A call to action of sorts. A reminder. Posted by b g s. It was the season’s beginning. The rainy season. And suddenly, it was humid, then no longer. Dead, crunchy leaves lined the streets and made the Earth look brownish-yellow and burnt. A year had passed, and no one had taken note. Hervé was gone. At some point, he left Paris to spend several months in Brittany. He came back a changed person. There is none. No one said anything of note. Muzil ...

5

Textual Identity: (Parenthetical Thoughts) on Love and the Passive Voice

http://textualidentity.blogspot.com/2009/04/parenthetical-thoughts-on-love-and.html

A journey into meta-textual existence. Parenthetical Thoughts) on Love and the Passive Voice. Posted by b g s. When The Supreme One created the universe, He did so with a series of verbal invocations, enunciating each one a nanosecond before the creation process began. (e.g. “Let there be light.”) In the Hebrew text, these are written as commands, fact which begs the question: Who was he commanding? No other beings had yet been spoken into existence. We walked along the quais de la Seine. Notre-Dame eyei...

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A journey into meta-textual existence. This week: 140, 216 RTD. FUCK! Posted by b g s. It was Charles De Gaulle Airport, but the year was 1923. Before commercial air travel was possible. It was the era of large vessels a sea, floating from one coast to another, as it hauled ticketed passengers with luggage case upon luggage case and stowaways with nothing but the clothing on their backs. Yet, somehow, airplanes were taking off and landing at the field. Who told you anything about me? I could never say th...

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