The SRI disbanded over a meal yesterday afternoon. M + C are off to England; N to Bali and then shortly thereafter possibly New York. C-prime is busy making films. S is writing a book.
Our ambitious talk about the new politics was perhaps only a death spasm.
Habit is a compromise effected between the individual and his envirnoment, or between the individual and his own organic eccentricties, the guarantee of a dull inviolability, the lightning-conductor of his existence... Life is a habit. Or rather life is a succession of habits, since the individual is a succession of individuals... Habit then is the generic term for the countless treaties concluded between the countless subjects that constitute the individual and their countless correlative objects. The periods of transition that separate consecutive adapatations represent the perilous zones in the life of the individual, dangerous, precarious, painful, mysterious and fertile, when for a moment the boredom of living is replaced by the suffering of being...
BECKETT*
(*I don't know where the citation is from. I found it in an introduction to Charlotte Bronte's Villette. --I'm leaving town for a few months. To suffer being.)
No comments:
Post a Comment