Tamara > Recent Status Updates

1.3

Revenants, ghosts, specters… Tag urself I’m “Artist, Unworthy of the Homely Protestant Religion”

“Silence was in thy faustive halls, O Truiga, when thy green woods went dry but there will be sounds of manymirth on the night’s ear ringing”

“Words weigh no no more to him than raindrips to Rethfernhim. Which we all like. Rain. When we sleep. Drops. But wait until our sleeping. Drain. Sdops.”

1.2

Well you know what they say: All Swell that Aimswell!

Me inviting all the scholarchs (fellow grad students) to the bounquet (potluck dinner) to eat “desippated soup”

This section is full of deferred/postponed meaning, disclaimers and qualifiers, tension between historicity vs myth/legend, focus on how national identity is built and maintained, lots of transitory spaces like inns and parks and pubs

1.1

Initial impression: the prose reads as if Benedict Cumberbatch was pronouncing every word like he pronounces “penguin” and also the Italian song imitating how English sounds.

It’s got the childlike rhythms and rhymes of limericks and fairytales that are both playful and soothing—fascinating in contrast to the heavy sexual undertones!

“only a fadograph of a yestern scene” is so beautifully lyrical.

Every line this man ever wrote is my definition of heartache… “For our time is the passing of a shadow / And our lives will run like / Sparks through the stubble / I place a delphinium, Blue, upon your grave.”