I just finished reading Dezső Kosztolányi's Kornél Esti, and, boy, are my arms tired.

So many good things to say about this book that I can't say any of them. Well, just one: I read this after reading my first Dezső Kosztolányi book, which was Skylark, and the next book I'm going to read is my third Dezső Kosztolányi book, Anna Édes, and after that I'm going to read my fourth Dezső Kosztolányi book, Nero, the Bloody Poet. And after that I'm going to read a book written by someone else, but only because there aren't any other Dezső Kosztolányi books which have been translated into English. (But I am SERIOUSly thinking about learning Hungarian so that I can get at his other works.) This guy is such an incredible writer that I can't get enough of him. What is it with these Hungarian writers? First László Krasznahorkai's Seiobo There Below cracks the shell of my brain and sends me through all of his available books and all of the films of Béla Tarr, and then leads me (by accident) to this Dezső Kosztolányi fellow, who picks some of the broken shell off of my previously mentioned cracked shell brain. Must be in the water.

Here are some non-spoilerish bits from the last chapter of Kornél Esti that I dearly loved:

And if that whets your appetite, it might be time to wet your whistle. 

John McWhorter, Don Lemon, and Dangerous Presidents

Don Lemon 1 asked John McWhorter whether he thought that Trump was--as someone else had called him--a "racial demagogue." Dr. McWhorter responded, 

"Racial demagogue implies more active, deliberate thought than I see in a president who never surprises me, and whose actions are always based on the lowest common denominator, on the instincts of an alligator in the guise of a human . . . .  We are being supervised by a person who is about as advanced on race as a less professorial Woodrow Wilson. I'ts tragic. I hope that we only have another three years of it."
                ¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡
Oh, man. BURN. 

I like the cut of this man's jib. Checked his bibliography out, and he's written quite a few books that look like they need to be shoved up my alley. 2  And let the gods be praised, the LFPL has two dozen titles listed, including a three part Great Courses thang entitled 
"The Story of Human Language" which ahmo get my hands on asap.

And btw, I have to say that while I am consistently disappointed in CNN, that disappointment has never occurred whilst watching and hearing Don Lemon. He has become one of my Go To Guys. 

1 Whom I am beginning to love. 2

2  Not in a gay way. 3

3  Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Race Matters

There are some advantages to getting up at 2 a.m. Such as catching Mr. Benjamin Watson on CNN, which I wouldn't have done if I hadn't been peering into my television hole a few minutes ago.

The subject was roses. As in war of the. Trump railing against the "sons of bitches" who should be fired because they kneel while "The Star Spangled Banner" is played. Trump "explaining" that this so-called kneeling was not patriotic, was disrespectful. Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. Just as I was about to flip the channel to avoid further contact with the vomitous, Don Lemon reappeared with Mr. Benjamin Watson. And Mr. Watson said,

"Whether we stand or kneel, we have to, I would say, have empathy for those who feel that this is offensive. That's a very real feeling. People have veterans in their family, for whatever reason they may feel that this is an affront to them, an affront to the flag, an affront to our country. And that's a very real feeling that we have to acknowledge, whether you take a knee or not. On the flip side, you have to listen to the reason why guys are saying that they are taking a knee. It's very important to listen and to not change that narrative. I think that there are diversion techniques, I think that there are ways to deflect from an issue that may be uncomfortable for some people to talk about. I think that's part of what the president may be doing. He may be playing to a certain narrative, and then sometimes creating his own. But I think that on both sides it's important to understand the other."

"I think that on both sides it's important to understand the other."

Wouldn't it be nice if we has a president who thought that way? 

Mmm-hmm.

Just sayin', sir.

This Just In . . .

"With Trump the line between malice and idiocy is always this sort of blurry one."

Bret Stephens 

on CNN 

earlier today 

(September 25, 2017)

My New Hero

I just saw this on my Twitter feed (posted by Brennan Gilmore, who can be found@brennanmgilmore):

97 year-old WWII vet & Missouri farmer who wanted to join w/ those who #TakeaKnee: 'those kids have every right to protest.'"

Petty Richard

I just read a news story about how NASCAR drivers were being threatened with losing their jobs if they engaged in any kind of National Anthem Protest. The story included this comment from Richard Petty 1 : 

“Anybody that don’t stand up for the anthem oughta be out of the country. Period. What got ’em where they’re at? The United States."

Hmmm.

On the one hand, I do think that we should show respect for the national anthem, and I never neglect to stand and remove my headgear when the tune begins to play. Sometimes I even put my right hand on my heart.

On the other hand, I do not think that failing to stand up is a treasonable offense which should be punished by deportation, ridicule, or scorn. I mean, that's kind of fascist, isn't it?

And on the other other hand, the anthem is not the best song, you know? It's a paean to a battle with a little tip of the hat to the concept of freedom tacked on at the very end. The part you don't get to hear because all of the patriotic fans are screaming "Play ball!" Maybe if we upgraded to Woody Guthrie's "This Land is Your Land"?

And as for that "freedom" thing . . . . I'm pretty sure that said concept of freedom includes the right to free expression. Just sayin', sir.

And as for Mr. Petty . . . . You'd think that he could have used some of his money to get him an edumacation, but hey, different strokes for different folks. Bad grammar notwithstanding, however, his statement just fails the bullshit test. First off, there are quite a few citizens of the U.S. of A. whose "where they're at" isn't within hailing distance of $65 million. In fact,  more than 45 million "Americans" live at poverty level . . . which is defined as $15,060 per year for one person, another $5,000 a year for each additional person in the household. So "where they're at" isn't really such a great place, and the only thing that they owe the U.S. of A. on that count is a "Please, sir, I want some more."

I'm also thinking about this "out of the country" idea. I'm just wondering how that would happen. Would cops come to your door and drag you to their car, drive you to a national border and give you a push? That would cost a few dollars. And I'm pretty sure that neither Canada nor Mexico would stand for that, so I suppose that either means a hearty swim or some transoceanic form of transportation. The latter would be very costly, wouldn't it? Just what are we proposing here, Mr. Petty? And how much of your considerable wealth are you willing to donate to help accomplish this task? Or perhaps you think we should just shoot these disrespectful motherfuckers and burn their corpses? (Of course bullets and fuel cost money, too.) Oh, so it's just a bunch of ill considered hot air? Okay. Never mind.

GasHole.

1  Net worth $65 million.

I Had a Dream

I woke up at 2:00 a.m. on Saturday. And then stayed awake for 20 hours. So when I finally went to sleep Sunday night, I dropped into REM immediately. I know that because after a really intense dream I woke up and looked at the clock and only a few minutes had passed since I'd gone to bed.

As for that dream . . . 

It began with my youngest child, Joe, standing beside me. I was looking at him and I could see past his autism, see him as a "normal" human being. It was startling. I saw his frustration at not being able to communicate his thoughts clearly. I saw his anger at the way his body would force him to make movements that he had no control over. I saw how disappointed he was that this was his lot in life. I began to cry, and I reached out to him, telling him how sorry I was. 

And then other people began to come into the room. The dead. My sister Kate, who had killed herself by stepping in front of a train. My mother, who had died in a whirling storm of dementia. My father, whose lungs had filled up with fluid and whose last breaths sounded like a clogged sink slowly draining. My friend Joe, my former students Seth and Ryan, my Army buddy Robert. The room was full of these translucent, pastel colored ghosts, and they circled around me as I tried to hold on to my youngest child, and their sullen anger was hot against my skin.

And I woke up crying. I prayed. I prayed that when I died, my sons and daughter would be taken care of, that they would not suffer deprivation or humiliation in their lives. I prayed that I would meet my mother and father and friends in heaven, and that after good, happy, fulfilling lives, my children would join me there.

I longed for the idea of heaven to be true. I begged the universe to make that a reality. 

Now it's Monday morning 2 a.m., and I am still begging. I think that I will be begging for the rest of my days on this earth.

Churchill Trumped

In War: Insolence. 

In Defeat: Pusillanimity. 

In Victory: Rodomontade. 

In Peace: Obstreperousness.

Dear NFL . . . OMG, it's a Two Letter Day!

I watch some football. In fact, it's not uncommon for me to watch 2 to 4 games in the course of a week, and I watch  The Packers  every time I can, which is just about every week. After all of the concussion business I feel bad about watching--and worried about the players' health--but I have to confess that it hasn't stopped me from enjoying the game. 

For one thing, I would hazard a guess that in every game I've ever watched there is at least one moment wherein an exclamation of awe and surprise escapes my lips. Wow, a human being just DID that. Y'know? You just don't get that in daily life.

However . . . 

I hate thinking that many (most?) of these guys are going to suffer from the results of brain damage at some point in their lives.

I have a friend who responded to me saying that by riposting, "They're grown men; they know the risks."

I think that's bullshit . . . and an immoral perspective. (But I still love my friend.) But where does that leave me? 

Is it immoral to watch people participate in their own self-destruction?

I'll confess that I'm watching the Colts beat the hell out of the Browns as I write those words. 

Meanwhile. . . 

I have an idea. I'm pretty sure that the NFL doesnt want an idea from Nobody in Kentucky, but hey, it's worth a,   shot, right? So . . . 

Here's my shot.

Dear NFL. 

I have a couple of ideas on how to make professional football safer for the players while remaining an exciting game.

First, no more tackles. Each player wears a sensor on his chest and another on his back. When one of the sensors is touched, the player is "tackled." Play ends. Like flag football, I know. But it keeps a lot of the action while lessening the danger of injury. It might even increase the difficulty level in such a way as to ADD excitement to this aspect of the game.

But anybody could have (and probably already has) thought of that part. Here's the real mojo:

The linemen. They also have the sensors front and back, of course. You never know where that ball could end up. But they also have sensors on their shoulders. When tbe teams line up, the linemen on the offense put their shoulders against the shoulders of the defensive players. They just rest on each other--any pressure prior to the snap (which registers on the sensors which trigger an alert to the officials) = offsides.  And when the ball is snapped, they go at it sumo style. Pushing and shoving, but no collisions. And if you get thrown off of your feet, you stay down until the end of the play.

And that should just about do it, I think. There are some rules that would need tweaking, but for the most part I think that would do it.

So what about it, NFL?

Can we talk monetary reimbursement for me now?

Your fan,

Brother K.

P.S. Thanks for saying Fuck You to Humpty Trumpty today. I loved it. 

Oh, look! Packers game!

Dear Infiniti . . .

I just wanted to let you know that your latest commercials have accomplished your goal and then some. Not that I really needed convincing, since just driving around Louisville was enough to convince me that the majority of Infiniti drivers were self-absorbed assholes who don't give a shit about anyone but themselves, and who don't mind endangering the lives of others if it means they get to their destination (or even the next red light) ten or fifteen seconds faster. (Speaking of that, have you considered the slogan, "I drive Infiniti, so FUCK YOU"? I'd be glad to discuss terms if you'd like to meet with me reference this copywrited phrase.)

But the commercial showing the dad and two kids tearing through the streets of a city--and even driving in reverse at the end!--so that they can meet up with The Mom who is running a marathon? Brilliant. What better way to say FUCK YOU? Say it with the kids!

And the Steph Curry commercial? The one where his kid draws a "test drive track" that looks like a maze, and then Steph gets in his Infiniti and drives a real life reproduction of said maze? "I'm rich as hell, so I can do stupid shit like this and laugh all the way to the bank. And by the way, FUCK YOU!" Hey, I just noticed that once again you're getting The Kids in on the FUCK YOU. Brilliant.

I can't wait to see how you guys say FUCK YOU next, Infiniti!

Sincerely,
Brother K

Man, We Are in Big Trouble.

"As the election of 1840 showed, food reflects and shapes individual and national identity. Although we still remember the remarkable Jean-Anthelme Brilliant-Savarin for his claim, 'Tell me what you eat: I will tell you what you are' . . . the leading nineteenth-century philosopher of the kitchen also insisted that 'the fate of nations depends on the way they eat.'"

Food and the Novel in Nineteenth-Century America

by Mark McWilliams

Like That

" . . . Pál was giving an account of his love affairs and conquests, as if holding a rapid, cut-price clearance sale of his life . . . . "

Kornél Esti

by Dezső Kosztolányi

Smartie

Back in the day, I was really excited when I got a Kindle that would allow me to do blog posts. (I think that was my third one.) And now I have (tenuously and probably temporarily) entered the smartphone era, so I thought I'd see how that went vis-a-vis blogging.

Hmmph.  Not too shabby for a four inch screen. 

Alone

" . . . no man can hope to be completely free who lingers within reach of familiar habits and urgencies. "

Richard E. Byrd,

Alone

I picked this book up some time ago, but just opened it this morning. I was reeling under the influence of having just been introduced to the The Last Alaskans via episodes 3 & 4 of the first season of that Animal Planet series, and needed more desperate cold, isolation, and desolation. And I almost immediately felt a kinship with this Byrd fellow. I may have to drill down on this book for a little while before I get back to the Hungarians.

Yes, angry.

"He wanted to write. He was waiting for the moment when he would reach such a pitch of despair and loathing that he would have to lash out, and then everything important and essential would pour out of him, not just the superfluous and incidental. That moment, however, hadn't yet arrived. He didn't yet feel badly enough about things to be able to write."

Kornel Esti 

by 
Deszö Kosztolányi

It's not completely true, of course; what is? But there's a lot of truth here with respect to anger (again with the anger) being the source of writing. If you're not angry about something, why would you write? Writing is an act of protest, either against something specific or against the unjust universe in general. 

I think that may be why most (nearly all) great literature is about misery and death and unhappiness. (Cue Steve Martin and his banjo: "Oh, murder and death and grief and sorrow!") Because it's hard to get angry about being happy.

No Picnic, Yes Lightning

I was driving Joe to his day program. Jacqueline was riding shotgun, so we were listening to classical music. Traffic was moderately heavy, and just a tad bit slow. When I checked my rearview mirror, there was a white sports car tailgating me. I could see the driver flipping his hand up and down in a "Come on!" gesture. But there was no place to come on. He could obviously see that there was a car in front of me. But apparently that wasn't salient information, as he continued to ride my bumper. I looked at my speedometer. I was going 43 miles per hour in a 45 miles per hour stretch. And there was still a car in front of me and cars in the lane to my left. And then the sports car pulled into the turn lane to pass me. I was horrified. There was a car waiting to turn in the other direction not thirty yards ahead. Surely he could see this. Before I could even think to do anything I had hit my brakes and the sports car cut in front of me, missing my left bumper by inches--maybe less. And he almost immediately threw on his brakes and came to a stop as there was a red light ahead.

He had risked my life, the lives of two of my children, his own life, and the life of at least one other person (in the car waiting to turn left) so that he could arrive at a stop light one second earlier than he otherwise would have. 

I don't understand people at all.

And there are times when I don't like them very much.

And that's putting it pretty fucking mildly.

As we proceeded to Joe's day program, we passed a church which had a sign proclaiming, "Practice makes perfect, so be careful what you practice."

It made me think.

Obviously it first made me think of the guy in the sports car, who was practicing being an asshole, and who had pretty much perfected that art.

But then I thought about myself. What is it that I practice? What am I perfecting?

And specifically, what am I practicing when someone does something stupid or dangerous on the road? 

Well, most of the time I get mad and then get over it. If there's anything wrong with that, then I can live with it. But is there more to it than that?

There is. It's about anger. I am beginning to think that I have a lot to say about anger, but I'll save that for later. Maybe a Amazon Kindle Book later, as I think that the "a lot" might be a big "a lot." For now, I'm just thinking about the immediate after-affects of my response to the sports car guy. I was shaken, for sure. But the comments I wrote above about not understanding / liking "people" were quite sincere. I caught a glimpse of the vast trove of despair that I own with respect to my fellow human beings. And how every negative act, big and life threatening or small and just kind of annoying, throws some coin into that trove. I've been practicing . . . and perfecting . . . to erode my faith. I've been practicing despair. It's not that I think it's unwarranted. Not at all. But that is not the important part of it. What effect does this have on me? 

There's a Bible verse (which has long puzzled and frustrated me) which says, 

For whosoever hath, to him shall be given, and he shall have more abundance: but whosoever hath not, from him shall be taken away even that he hath.

Matthew 13:12. King James Version

And I think that that actually makes sense to me in terms of this faith and practice and perfecting business. If you have faith in your fellow human beings (or life or God or whatever), then you find evidence to support that faith and your faith grows. If you don't keep any faith in _______________ , then you end up with nothing but despair.

I do not want to succumb to despair.

I do not want to be a namby pamby jellyfish, either.

I've got some work to do.

By the way, the Practice Makes Perfect quote comes courtesy of William Ellery Channing (April 7, 1780 to October 2, 1842), who was a Unitarian preacher in the early nineteenth century. He sounds like an interesting fellow. I will have to do a little walkabout in his territory.

Nuff Said

"I think if John Iselin were a paid Soviet agent he could not do more to harm this country than he's doing now."

The Manchurian Candidate (1962)

by George Axelrod

That's What Kshama Sawant Says

"The American left will have to build ouside the Republican and Democratic parties, whose leaders have repeatedly demonstrated that they will go to any lengths to defend the superwealty and protect the capitalist system. Progress can happen only by building independent working-class power."

Kshama Sawant 

"We Built This City" 

The Nation 150th Anniversary Issue, April 2015

Fuck DC's Master Race

Now let me get this straight. 

Dark Night III: The Master Race, a 9 issue series, cost $5.99 per issue . . . unless you bought the Collector's Edition (which had exactly the same contents, just that part of it was in a different size), which cost $12.99 per issue. Okay . . . that in itself makes no sense to me at all, but let's let that go.

That means that the total cost of the series is either $53.91 or $116.91. (Comixology gives you a little bit of a break on the former price, since it has issues #1 to #4 at $4.99 each, but the rest are still at full $5.99 price, so the grand total there is $49.91, and I'm going to guess that you won't be seeing that drop in the near near.)

That's a spicy meatball.

But I just saw that the collected edition is being released with a list price of $29.99 (both print and digital), and with an Amazon price of $19.49 ($18.52 digital on Kindle . . . though it's $19.99 on Comixology). 

What the fucking fuckety fuck is up with THAT shit?

I was interested in this book when it first came out in November 2015, but I didn't pick it up because I thought the price was out-fucking-rageous. And the Collector's Edition thing seemed like a really mean spirited thing for DC to do to exploit us comic book nerds. But putting the price of the (hardcover) collected edition at half the price of the "regular" edition . . . that's just pissing in the face of the fan who put down those hard bucks. 

So fuck you, DC. I really love you guys for a lot of things, but as far as this comic book goes, I can live without it, foe show.

What a suck ass thing to do to the fans.

This Week's Comics: September 13, 2017

Big week at the old comic book corral. For one thing, it'd been three weeks since I got in. For another, there were a couple or so things that I just felt like picking up. I find that I'm often inclined to buy more stuff if I have a pretty good load on already. I just reach a Well, What The Hell? tipping point. 

Let me tell ya 'bout it.

Action Comics #987 Mr. Oz, huh? I am not overly fond of this story twist, and the art was not to my liking this time around, but hey . . . a mere six and a half months until The Big One, right? 

Atari Classics Swordquest TP I have to admit that I was kinda sorta tempted to buy this. I mean . . . it's Gerry Conway and George Perez . . . at least in part. But the asking price ($12.56 Amazon paperback, $11.93 Kindle, $12.99 Comixology (what the fuck is up with that? Amazon OWNS Comixology. You've got to watch these sons of bitches every minute or they'll be halfway up your ass before you even know they've knocked on your back door). Maybe there will be a sale.Until then, though, ahmo let this slide, and nostalgia be damned.

Dastardly and Muttley #1 Yeah, I didnt really see this one coming, either. But it's written by Warren Ellis, believe it or not. And the cover was kind of cool. And sometimes you just have to celebrate the BALLS that DC Comics bangs around. Even if it doesn't always work out so well. This time, however, it worked out really well. This was quite an entertaining comic book. I am most definitely interested in coming back for another go at it.

Detective Comics #964 This book continues to surprise and entertain me. The only thing I don't like about it is that Batman isn't around a whole hell of a lot, but sometimes less is more-or-less not less, so at the very least I'll be back again next issue. Which is only two weeks from now. The development of the Clayface character has been quite interesting here, and that alone would be enough to bring me back at this point.

Image + #I Don't Care Anymore. It's free with Previews. That's all.

Mister Miracle #1 2nd Printing Would have bought this when it first appeared, but The Great Escape sold out. Almost bought it on Comixology, but it was full price . . . and still is. There aren't many (might not be ANY) books that I'd buy for full price in e-version. And you know, if I had bought issue #1 when it came out, I probably wouldn't have bought #2. Not that it was bad . . . Tom King is a good writer, and this is an interesting take on the MR. Miracle character. And the art is quite good. But the story just seems so thin. There's a lot of repeated panels, quite a few black panels with the words "Darkseid is" and nothing else. And that is effective, in a way, but it also feels like I'm spending a lot of money for what amounts to about half of a comic book. However . . . since #1 had sold out, I bought #2 with #1. And Mister Miracle #2 was better. The story advanced, there was even a touch of humor, and there was (I think . . . it's not really clear at this point) a big turning point for the character of Orion. So I don't know if there will be a #3 in my future. If it were a buck cheaper, I'd definitely go for it. 

Previews #348 Always fun. Saw some interesting shit is coming up, too. Like a new Demon series. And a one volume omnibus of the complete Jack Kirby Kamandi. I am going to try to resist buying that, since I already have (1) all of the original issues, (2) the DC Archives books, and (3) the two previous two volume omnibus collection. But who knows what will happen. It is Kamandi, after all. If I can spend $50 ($3.99 x 12) on The Kamandi Challenge, which is just non-stop express to Shitville, I can probably part with a hundred bucks for this omnibus. Hey, don't judge; it's a disEASE, for fuck's sake.

Rocky And Bullwinkle Show #1  I was a little bit tempted, but not $4's worth.

Spy Seal #2 Very exciting. And by the way, issue #1 has gone to $1.99 on Comixology, so if you want to taste this lovey dovey at a bargain price, here's your chance. You'll be glad you did. And as for this issue #2? It was fun, and it just looks great. I hope that people start hopping onto this title, because it really needs the support. I can't imagine Tintin fans not being delighted with Spy Seal. (And who the hell isn't a Tintin fan?) 

I also picked up Star Wars Adventures #1. Even though it's a $3.99 book, and even though, since it's IDW, I could have gotten it from Comixology for $1.99 in a few weeks. I'm not a gigantic Star Wars fan, but I am a bick "Adventures" comic book fan. Batman Adventures, Superman Adventures, Justice League Adventures . . . that was some good shit. So I went for this. And? It was good. Maybe even good enough to go for #2 next month. There were two stories. The first featured Rey, who isn't my favorite character, but it was a decent story. And left us on a cliffhanger. The second story was kind of centered on Obi-Wan Kenobi, looking very Ewan McGregor-y, and it was pooty good as well. And complete in the issue. I'm pretty sure a harder Star Wars fan would like this a lot.

And on Comixology, there was

Injustice 2 #23 The last few issues haven't been as knock my socks off good as previous issues, but it still good, and I still buy it as soon as it goes up for sale. And by "as soon as," I mean pretty much the minute that Comixology posts it for sale. I'm hooked, baby. 

The Unsound #2 I actually bought this one last week, while I was in Vermont. And I was startled by how good it was. I didn't even remember issue #1, and probably wouldn't have bought #2 if I hadn't liked the cover art so much. But once I started reading it . . . oh, man, this shit is good. As soon as I got back home I found issue #1 and re-read it, and I don't know how the fuck I missed how good it was. 


And speaking of The Doom Patrol . . . 

Everybody knows the superdedooper cool Grant Morrison Doom Patrol from the late 80s / early 90s, I suppose. Everybody who gives a semi-solid shit about comic books, anyway. And I'd imagine that Gerard Way's current take on the DP has attracted somebody's attention--him being a rock star and all that--though I have to admit that the book failed to hold mine. But there were other incarnations of the team that were pretty freakin' interesting. Like the original run by Arnold Drake and company. Man, that was some weird ass shit. And DC has just recently started to release those books via Comixology. Issues #86 - #107 are up for sale right now at a mere $1.99 apiece. 22 issues for a mere $43.78 sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me. But wait! Whilst fact checking the preceding lines, I saw that DC has also just recently (June 27, 2017) released a Doom Patrol omnibus which collects issues #80 - #121 for $61.28 (42 issues) for a per issue price of $1.46, so an even better deal. Hmmm. I'd leap on that in a heartbeat if I weren't already the proud owner of DC Showcase Presents The Doom Patrol Volume 1, which contains issues #80 -101--albeit in black and white. And I'm also noticing that there was a second volume of DCSPTDP which collects issues #102-121, and can be had for around $20. Oh, man, I loved those DC Showcase Presents things. I guess they're all gone now. It's been a year and a half since the last one was published. I bought a shitload of them. Though not as many as I wanted to buy. And I have to admit that I only made it all the way through a couple of them. But still . . . it was a great way to read some classic comic books without spending a fuckin' fortune. Sigh. ANYway, The Doom Patrol. Got to say that I'm now thinking that that omnibus is the way to go. I'm going to go read my black and white version and see if I need it as much as I think I do right now.

I'm also Thinkin'' 'Bout Mage: The Hero Denied #1, Magnus #3, and Antares Vol. 1. 

Probably Not The Last Time I Quote From Kornel Esti by Deszö Kosztolányi

"He could sense the enigma of the kiss. When people are helpless with despair and desire, and speech is no longer of use, the only means of making contact is by the mingling of their breath. They try in this way to enter into one another, into the depths where perhaps they will find the meaning and the explanation of everything."

Kornel Esti 

by

Deszö Kosztolányi

Oh, man, is that some kind of beautiful or what? Of course I thought of some of my favorite kisses as I read this. 

That last "girlfriend" who was so anxious to get into bed very early on, and how that really put me off, since I like to actually know a person before I have sex with them. And I talked to her about that pretty openly and she accepted it, then asked if we could just kiss. And that was, of course, more than reasonable, though I really wasn't feeling the pull. But of course you can't go that far and expect things not to migrate south at several thousand miles per hour, so I leaned in and kissed her. And almost immediately I felt electrified. Such a flood of warmth and sweetness. Mmmmm. And thinking about that made me think of my first kiss at age 17. June and I had walked out onto the athletic field of our high school, and she took me by surprise when she turned towards me and kissed me. 1  The sun (it was, improbable though it might seem, the month of June) was shining down on us and her long blonde hair was billowing in the breeze and it was. Just. Magical. And then I thought of the other kisses . . . .  

Every one of them was at least good.

And then I couldn't help but think that it is quite possible that I have experienced my last kiss, since I am pretty sure that I have given up on the possibility of having a romantic relationship at this point in my life, and this made me mourn that fact. Made me think that maybe I . . . well, probably not. Enough is enough, y'know?

1  Hey, truth is truth: I have a long history of Not Making The First Move. It didn't prevent me from having my fair share of relationships, thank God. But it may have set me up for a pattern of relationships with aggressive 2 women who would tend to not be interested in sticking around for the long run. Not hatin', just relatin'. 

2   Or "aggressive," if you prefer. I don't mean this as a condemnation at all. It's quite possible that I'd never have lost my virginity if not for this type of "aggression."

Again, Kornel Esti by Deszö Kosztolányi

"Naturally, he gathered these observations slowly, bit by bit, something every minute, because he couldn't be indiscreet, could only watch her for short periods, as if by chance, and then fly back with the precious, stolen pollen, to make it into honey in the buzzing beehive of his imagination.

     "Once, just as he was withdrawing again to hide behind the cover of Il Cuore, frowning and reading most intently, it struck him that the girl was whispering something to her mother.

     "In fact, he had been hearing this whispering--if such it may be called--this sotto voce murmuring ever since entering the compartment. He had, however, paid no attention to it. After a while he had become accustomed to it, as to the droning of a fly in a room on a summer afternoon."

Kornel Esti 

by 

Deszö Kosztolányi

There are a lot of reasons that I love these paragraphs from Kornel Esti . . . which is well on its way to becoming one of my all time favorite novels.

First, that image of the writer as a bee gathering the pollen of experiences and observations and turning that pollen into the honey of literature. It's just lovely, isn't it?

Second, that the young boy (Kornel Esti) is hiding behind his book 1  while he observes the mother and daughter who share his compartment on the train. 

And third, because the final paragraph includes the simile of a buzzing fly, because that neatly pairs the bee and the fly--a pair which has been preoccupying a huge tract of land in my mind for the past several years as I struggle to bring forth my novel Flies & Bees (three hundred and fifty pages and counting--with no end in sight). In fact, I am going to quote this section in my novel, as it fits a whole in that area of the jigsaw puzzle quite nicely.

 1  Il Cuore is a novel by the Italian author Edmondo De Amicis, first published October 18, 1886. (How's that for specificity?) It is the author's best known work, and was apparently very popular in Fascist Italy because of its portrayal of Italian nationalism and patriotism. It is available for free from Amazon Kindle under the title Cuore (Heart): An Italian Schoolboy's Journal.