Tranquil.

Jul 10, 2006 14:45

It has been drizzling rythmically almost all night. I watched Good Night and Good Luck in my brother's room, which seems bare without him, but it'll be filled with my things soon, as it always is. I was supposed to be watching 15 Park Avenue, and I did, after Good Night. It was a hindi version which came close to making a few lines comical, a few ironic. I didn't want to watch it again, it always drains me. I had to though, because I have to write a critical appreciation of it. Casual analysis of good things can be so frustrating, especially when demanded by others, and there are only two ways out - to not make it casual or to not analyse at all, and as the second is not an option now, the first has to be chosen, and that is tiring. After watching 15 Park Avenue, like I fool I thought that reading Marquis de Sade would make a contrast to the movie, and so I started off on it again, and as I said, it was very, very foolish to do that. I did however, read that he wrote the book within thirty seven days, and some of his notes were given along with the book - strangely enough he seemed very concerned about his writing and the structure of the book - and oh, of course - the title of the book - 100 Days of Sodom. I think I would have fared better with Justine , atleast it was mentioned in the Ingmar Bergman book. I guess the road to insomnia is paved with bad decisions. I thought I'd read John Addington Symonds's A Problem In Greek Ethics, and opened the file only to remember that I just had the cover of the book, not the text. If I'd been using the other computer none of this would have happened, and I'd happily have been reading the Other Essays in A Defence of Poetry and Other Essays. After the extremely talented Monseiur Sade, I couldn't even read Michael Lassell, and all that I had left were the Sonnets of Michael Angelo, as translated by Symonds, which I am very glad to have.

THE TRANSFIGURATION OF BEAUTY:_

A DIALOGUE WITH LOVE.

_Dimmi di grazia, amor._

Nay, prithee tell me, Love, when I behold
My lady, do mine eyes her beauty see
In truth, or dwells that loveliness in me
Which multiplies her grace a thousandfold?
Thou needs must know; for thou with her of old
Comest to stir my soul's tranquillity;
Yet would I not seek one sigh less, or be
By loss of that loved flame more simply cold.--
The beauty thou discernest, all is hers;
But grows in radiance as it soars on high
Through mortal eyes unto the soul above:
'Tis there transfigured; for the soul confers
On what she holds, her own divinity:
And this transfigured beauty wins thy love.

Tomorrow turned into today many hour back, but it still feels like tomorrow. tomorrow, when I have to wake up at six thirty, tomorrow when the beaten words beat, beat, beat, until you're certain that there is some truth behind the words of Wordworth and the gentle drone of the explanation, and to reach you just have to dive through the printed text, throught the italicised five sentenced life og the poet, throught the awakening of women and the benefits of eco tourism, through the questions not for marking and through the quoted Rupert Brooke.

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