Epistemysics

Some theatre each day keeps the doctor away…

Onwards, America

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The difference between reading and watching television – one of the many differences, obviously – is that, for me at least, I find I have to will myself to read.  I suppose that, reading not being a natural skill for a human, it is an active task, whereas TV is far more passive.  (All this is nothing new, of course.)  Although if the book is a real page turner then it doesn’t require as much will.

I’m wondering, you see, whether I’ve always had to will myself to read a book.  Surely not.  I had a love of it when I was a young boy.

I think, perhaps, it is that now I not only read for entertainment, but for expansion, or literary education.  To become familiar with the classics and whanot (no space).  And so there is more than the immediate goal of entertainment; there is an overarching one too that taints (or brightens) everything underneath; and whereas entertainment has no time limit on it, reading all the classics does; suddenly I am not strolling, but having to perambulate with a little force.  That must be it, I suppose.

Out of interest, I wonder if there is ever something that underarches something else?

Speaking of strolling – 50 minute walk tonight.  Despicable.  The energy was sapped completely.

America has picked up considerably, thankfully.  And I’m getting that twisted feeling in the stomach.  I was reminded, a little obliquely perhaps, of the Van Gogh biography.  I suppose Van Gogh’s downward-spiral wanderings have a touch of Kafka in them.

I also notice, reading Kafka post-Murakami-binge, that Murakami owes rather a lot to him.  I knew there was some influence there (after all, one of his books has “Kafka” in the title), but I see it more clearly now, having looked at it from both sides.

And I have also tittered on occasion – perhaps I’ve found the humour David Foster Wallace thought most missed.  I’ve been on the lookout for it somewhat.

Two typos I found in it today, too.  You think they might’ve got rid of them by now.  A “though” for “thought” and “not” for “nor”.

Liked this quote from ze book:

The Manageress seemed to construe this as excellent news.  “So then you’re free?” she said.
“Yes, I’m free,” said Karl, and nothing seemed more worthless than his freedom.

327/whatever.

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Written by epistemysics

November 28, 2013 at 1:19 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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