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March 29, 2013

Calomnii mitologice




Si la inceput a fost Cuvantul… Cuvantul ce a spulberat tacerea, pe care ironic acum o cautam in zeci si mii de cuvinte, de jocuri ale literelor, ale sunetelor, pe care incercam sa o pictam pe coala alba de hartie, sa o prindem intr- adiere de vant, un gand, sau o emotie… Sunt oameni ai Tacerii, ,,introvertitii”, ,,pesimistii”, sau oricum ii vrei numiti, cei care traiesc intr-o lume interioara, intr-un continuu razboi cu propriile idei, si ganduri si emotii, atipici pragmatismului … In marea de ,,nu-uri” si de zgomote, m-am intors la Paler. Prin cartile obligatorii de citit, intre cele luate pentru recenziat, prin cele ce se odihnesc pe rafturi mult prea prafuite, prin toate domino-urile ce cad cu zgomot in aceste zile, m-am intors la ,,molii” si la singuratatea lor, la un Narcis diferit, un Don Quijote sau un Don Juan, o zeitate greaca, privita ganditor, prin sita timpului, la miturile care m-au captivat candva, cautandu-le ecoul in modernitate. Probabil ca asta incearca sa faca Paler cu ele, cu societatea romaneasca,cu lumea secolului XXI,  cu gandirea si sentimentele Omului …
M-am asezat cuminte, pe-o banca din spatele amfiteatrului gol, ascultandu-i conferintele imaginare, conferintelehttp://www.internetmonk.com/wp-content/uploads/void-of-silence.jpeg lui, ale mele, ale tuturor. Povestile despre noi si singurate, viata si temerile comune tuturor, povestea tuturor si-a nimanui. Lasand in urma toate sunetele, toate campurile de lupta, tot ceea ce tine de-un univers pragmatic. Intorcandu-ma spre radacini, spre o constructie a priori, de care nu am habar cum de mi s-a oferit tocmai mie. In zgomotele din sali, de pe coridoare, din tramvaie si orase ruginii, din cafenele arhipline sau mult prea goale, din sunete pe care nu le mai poti distinge sau intelege, dai jos fiecare masca ce o detii, ce o detesti, ce-a devenit mult prea grea pentru a mai fi purtata, si te retragi din tot, in Linistea lui, a mea, a ta…
Nu stiu de ce Paler … sunt scriitori pe care-i porti cu tine mereu, pe care-i scoti din sertarele memoriei si la care te intorci, scriitori personali, a caror scrieri iti rasuna in minte… e imaginea lumii in care traim, farmecul miturilor, anii dusi in suflet, resimtiti in fiecare bataie de inima, sau e doar pauza de care ai nevoie, departe de intreaga lume prafuita, ce-si repeta povestea de doua milioane de ani… Acum sunt cuvintele spuse atunci cand Cortina cade, cand aplauzele amutesc, cand fiecare se indreapta spre casa lui, cu-o imagine a unui actor preferat sau fredonand o bucata muzicala … Sunt cuvintele cand totul se afunda in tacere.

March 7, 2013

At the Core of Literature


I feel home here, but I am not sure if I really belong to this place – among letters, sounds, words and stories, amongonce upon a time and they lived happily ever after, among the strongest feelings that we as human experience, among Everyman and Everywoman ….
Paul Auster reminded me of why I had chosen literature, of my dreams and defeats with bookclubs, of the things that I couldn’t say, of why I had wanted to study literature, of my interest in details (and how important they are in analyzing and understanding fiction), of (im)possible PhDs. There are many things that I could say about this writer, passages that made me stop from reading so that I could write dozens of ideas on my tiny papers. There were moments when I felt the urge to take a pen and start writing myself. There were moments when he pissed me off, moments of suspense, moments of twists, moments when I felt that something was missing … The New York Trilogy is about writing, fiction in fiction, about characters that are partly conscious of their condition in their own fiction, about America and its myths, the Adamic myth, the Garden of Eden, its great thinkers that mold its beginnings (Hawthorne, Melville, Emerson, Thoreau),  satires, games of the mind, reality and fiction. When you finish reading this book, you want to start it all over again, to see the elements that you have missed, to understand this maze of words and images and actions …
“Every life is inexplicable, I kept telling myself. No matter how many facts are told, no matter how many details are given, the essential thing resists telling. To say that so and so was born here and went there, that he did this and did that, that he married this woman and had these children, that he lived, that he died, that he left behind these books or this battle or that bridge – none of that tells us very much. We all want to be told stories, and we listen to them in the same way we did when we were young. We imagine the real story inside the words, and to do this we substitute ourselves for the person in the story, pretending that we can understand him because we understand ourselves. This is a deception. We exist for ourselves, perhaps, and at times we even have a glimmer of who we are, but in the end we can never be sure, and as our lives go on, we become more and more opaque to ourselves, more and more aware of our own incoherence. No one can cross the boundary into another – for the simple reason that no one can gain access to himself.”(248-249, 3. The Locked Room)

Bird set free

„Every time I find the meaning of life, they change it.” (Daniel Klein) You see, I’ve had a design, and I don’t know where I did wrong. ...