When will I learn at last this ancient Greek word which means “to receive favorably, accept”? (I may have just done it by actually giving expression to my obduracy, though perhaps on editing this years from now I will find I have continued to deceive myself on this point.) [Editing this years from then I do believe I recall the word, which δέχομαι, which is a common word which I ought to have committed to memory years ago.] (Looked up obdurancy, which is how I first spelled it, which I guess works, but the word is not what I want. Obdurant suggests a willed resistance to the right answer.) Observation: My spelling is bad in several senses but the most interesting resembles the errors of poor technology: not like me spelling phonetically where that isn’t appropriate — parkay for parquet — but as if the computer misheard me or made a bad prediction of what I meant — ‘than’ for ‘that’ or ‘eye sore’ when I mean ‘I’m so’ — when I am the computer too.

Saw someone question the need to begin a question with “question:” Looked like the gifts I’d gotten for my niece and nephew wouldn’t arrive in time for the holidays: coin purses shaped like tacos, in which I would put a gift. My thought, such as I could form it, was that Stevens, dealing with ideas, produces something substantial in feeling, whereas what I was writing seemed essentially factual and journalistic, and there was nothing either above or beneath it to make it more substantial in feeling.

A modern remake of The Clouds considered — The Blogs.

Idea that the reason Africa remains so tribal and resistant to the rule of law, is that it’s never been conquered in the way, say, Britain was conquered by Rome, which intrusion acted somewhat as primer coat for later civilizations. (Intensely hypothetical, but if Rome’s empire had only extended directly south what would be the effect today?)

(Condensed idea: subjugation is a prerequisite for the rule of law.)

Looked up Pele’s Hair, Berlin (Lou Reed album) — hadn’t realized it was Jack Bruce on bass. Sympotic was the adjectival form of symposium and Kottabos was an Ancient Greek game of throwing the sediment of one’s empty wine cup at a target. To note: boy’s transition from spoiled rich kid to okay rich kid in Captains Courageous (film) A hypocrite in Ancient Greece was an actor. (Is it peculiar that Jesus rails against the “hypocrites”? Do the prophets rail against pretenders and fakers in the same? Did Buddha?) Looked up scotopic and billabong and asetose. Looked up Lester Maddox and Amanda Peterson and Midrash Rabba and 1993 cruise missile strikes on Iraq… ….Can’t name the wood of which the door is comprised, can’t identify the pattern of its engraved rectilineal figures, or know how to describe the angle to which it is opened…. I forget the presence of the shadows and reflections in the picture, I say nothing of the jostled state of the rugs… And this is what writing is, to notice and know the names of these things. I should be able to notice and identify everything present.

If the Greek Gods could be combined into one god would they be the equal of Yahweh? Would the Greek myths equal the OT? No, I don’t know exactly what I mean by “equal” in those questions, in what sense equal, but something like this comes to mind:

Genesis = The Myths / Homer
Exodus/ Kings etc = The plays/ The Histories
Prophets = Philosophers

The only way I can explain a number of my anomalies, or even my general condition, is (though it’s not stated as an aspiration, which is how you sometimes find it) ‘rock n roll.’ Kid stuff in a sense, but with ideas that penetrate the script of the mainstream view. Perhaps rock n roll simply indicates the ad hoc, and is the opposite of the carefully engineered (although that’s become so untrue.)

Notion: I associate rock n roll with progressive values but can rock really represent “progress” from classical music while being so much more rudimentary? Counter notion: rock n roll is essentially democratic and youth oriented, not politically progressive; it doesn’t represent progress in music but is the music of a society, perhaps, that has technologically progressed.

The ab in abandonment had made me think of the ob in obvious, which was something I’d looked up the previous day. What was obvious was something in the way, in the viam, in the road. . . . . Thinking of ob by the fridge, thinking of ab by the bed.

Listening to song Carrot Rope I’m puzzled, as I so often am by song lyrics, by how the lyrics “don’t make sense” — whether in an absolute way or merely to me — and yet will nevertheless seem “to work” so well. And by “work” I mean that I’m not troubled by the possibility that the lyrics might mean nothing or that they mean something stupid or untrue; I feel they must mean something interesting. Carrot Rope to me is a nice catchy song that “makes no sense,” like quite a lot of Astral Weeks, for example, or Gimme Shelter, whereas a nice catchy song like Love for Sale does “make sense.” I can clearly understand the meaning of the lyrics of Love for Sale.

I perform a search online about Carrot Rope’s lyrics. I come across three interpretations, the third of which was so brilliant it must be the answer or mainly the answer — a carrot rope is a wedding ring, made of carets, pulling you like a leash. It explains many of the obscure parts of the lyrics. I doubt that Astral Weeks or Gimme Shelter is like this, with a key, but I find now in this song an underlying idea that definitively holds these lyrics up.

Donald & Lydia a sad judgement gently delivered for our times, “making love from ten miles away” is our times. Or all times. We find reasons to preserve ourselves from intimacy.

Reading, finished Chandler’s book on Napoleon, which I envisioned as a companion to rereading War & Peace (had Napoleon been a great man?) which I’ve started. Greek, Lysias. French, de Maupassant. Writing again — that ideal I’ve had of the epiphany seems to have lost meaning for me — there’s nothing really important about each moment of life, but seizing on one, not letting it get away, may be an important artistic conceit or device or prompt in the post-Proust-Joyce era. But the spiritual significance no longer feels there — a day that is like a thousand years to God. To find just one year in any day.

War & Peace: touched by the piety of Mary Bolkonsky. Prince Andrew must pray for the capacity to love. (The only other recourse for the unloving is hating.) Also, the soldier who, in his panic, deliberately looks for people where he knows them not to be, my very self. Release of prayer: how the right humility might lead us out of fear.

… chaos and significance of the political situation; uncertainty surrounding the climate situation;  magnitude of that and human complacency regarding it; newspaper headlines — seem like evidence of a vacancy within me writ large: a projection of the interior I can’t see; through the lens of the news, upon the wall of historical events, myself

Time of The Assassins. return it to a spot between The Possessed and the French Le Rouge et Le Noir. (But it doesn’t fit vertically there, so it’s going to have to go between Open Boat and Other Stories, dollar edition, and Silent China, Lu Xun, David’s gift.) Something also needs to be done about Polybius: will put him where the Gravity’s Rainbow was.

In that position, Polybius has Gaddis (Recognitions) on the left and a long row of Faulkner on the right, but then, since he is taller than Gaddis, and since Gaddis is far taller than the Vintage editions of Faulkner, I wedge him between Infinite Jest and Gaddis instead. But the black spine of the Digireads.com edition of Polybius clashes too terribly with the orange of the spine of Infinite Jest and the pale blue of The Recognitions so I reinsert it to the right of The Recognitions again so that its black goes with the black of the Vintage Faulkners. Anyway, this shelf has a very 20th/ 21st century vibe except with only a few green Loebs at the end, so the Pynchon I have removed from here will probably go back where it was.

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I’m fairly pleased with myself for having identified the saxophonist on the radio as Jackie Mclean or a Jackie Mclean inspired artist, when it is actually Booker Ervin or a Booker Ervin inspired artist, I am soon to learn; and, not yet realizing my mistake, I ask myself how could I, who “had so much of what I called knowledge — though it wasn’t much — and wasn’t perhaps, what another would call knowledge — or what another who actually knew things would call knowledge — perish? How can a knowledgeable person die (which was not to say an ignorant person should die)?” And I by wondering this am really perhaps no so much self-impressed as I am impressed by knowledge and by how great, and great-feeling, a thing it is to know or think one knows.

I’m soon to learn I’ve totally mixed up these horn players, I have actually confused them with each other for years now; on realizing which, I then think — “yes my error and confusion can perish, and ought to perish. I ought not necessarily perish along with my confusion; in fact, I ought to remain extant, while my confusion perishes, or that would be desirable from my point of view. And it is in fact a good thing that what I call my knowledge, which is actually confusion, may perish without me, which is what learning is…. Is that what death is? Not the death of knowledge but the death of confusion? If I would be a totally unconfused person might I find immortal life? Might I simply die? Might I find I was not I, when I died, which is what I am when I’m unconfused?”

I know, or think I know, that knowledge, deep or shallow, is a projection of a biological organism, or else somehow encoded on it. And we know what happens to what we call “biological things” — they die and along with them, one supposes, everything that is “encoded” on them, their knowledge. But is it really possible the somewhat ornate things encoded in my mind can die? Is it possible I might become so encoded as to be immortal? Perhaps this is the idea behind people with elaborate tattoos: they imagine the flesh can become so encoded as to ward off death and corruption. Nothing that elaborate can perish, might be their idea. Of course, what I seem to be describing here (though I’m not actually sure I’m clear on it) is what is often called the Vanity of Knowledge. Yes, even elaborately knowledgeable people with well-tattooed brains must face disease and injury and poverty and humiliation and death. Yes, they must. We’ve seen it happen. Knowing can’t save you, or save us, from “the way of all flesh.”

So to recap — first: you don’t know what you think know; and second, what you indeed do know won’t save you (where “being saved” and “understanding” are the same) — unless, perhaps, ‘I am not I’ is a thing that can be known and be made sense of.

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Interesting how Menelaos’ presence in the duels in both books 3 and 7 has the effect of creating a hierarchy of strength and bravery:

Book 3’s duel tells us: Menelaos is stronger than Paris, and Paris is fearful of Menelaos (and only fights him owing to pressure from Hector).

Book 7’s duel tells us: Menelaos is weaker than Hector but not afraid of him (and is only restrained from fighting him by Agamemnon), while Hector is stronger than Menelaos, but somewhat weaker than Aias, and a little afraid of him.

I guess we knew these things anyway, but not so clearly defined, and it’s an interesting authorial choice to have Menelaos be the one who first challenges Hector.

Perhaps the real point is to draw a contrast between Menelaos, the lawful husband, and Paris, the seducer and usurper: the former is unafraid to fight, as a matter of honor, even a person better than him, who would surely defeat him; while the latter can’t even face the man he wronged.

idea. It’s the bad writing of the best writers that most discloses their biographical selves.

(The basis for Writers’ fiction is frequently their personal experience, but when they write poorly, they have failed to make it transcendent, they have simply, unwittingly reported on themselves.)

Looked up Ascapart and Bevis of Hampton (Brittish mythology), looked up Charles Aznavour (French language singer) and Siphonodendron (ancient plant life) and corner radii (principle of urban planning). Phrase cucullus non facit monachum had come up. Proverbial. I had thought it was quoted in Measure for Measure but it actually comes up in Twelfth Night. The clothes don’t make the man, you may say. Did I have an idea that was new to me today? (no) Looked up ‘dike’ and ‘solus rex.’

Idea that “nature vs. nurture” is a false opposition because “nature” is just “nurture” over time. If you expose a population to positive or negative conditions for generations that will produce positive or negative attributes in those populations for generations, would be my guess. Can the nurturing or neglect of an individual overwhelm the generational advantages or disadvantages of their population? Can an individual break out of the influence of its generation?

Alcohol enhances ability to write (yes, complex) watching a movie diminishes capacity to write (yes) strenuous exercise diminishes capacity to write (yes) walking enhances or increases capacity to write (yes, complex) socializing decreases capacity to write (insufficient data… yes) writing personally enhances capacity to write impersonally (yes) reading will tend to result in writing (yes)

Q: tendency to exaggerate our own experiences and times above those of others notwithstanding, what if the 20th century really does represent some sort of agricultural revolution type order of change?

Becoming of another ethnicity and family: passage of genetic material through the ears. Man’s talk somehow overcoming not just biological probability but my own personal and family history, so that my genetic coding has been changed by mere listening.

Looked up Kathiawar, peninsula in North West India, coastal town, Ghandi birthplace. Ghandi biography recalled, Charles Ives biography recalled, perform internet search for “Fellini biography” and suddenly the cat leaps up behind me, a scrambling of paws and claws against the faux leather of the couch back. Charges up from behind me and growls terribly with hunger, a really quite demanding and hideous growl. Not the medicinal food this time, is probably the meaning of her hideous growl — serious hunger.

Maxim: people often attribute others’ failures to their weaknesses, but more often these exist on parallel tracks.

What is the literary evidence for the idea of human progress? If you were to restrict your inquiry to Western literature, from say Homer to Joyce, what would be the evidence that humankind had (positively, negatively, laterally) changed during that time?

(Question occurs to me because I was thinking of the idea of “not living a real life” as being a question of more recent literature, not to be found in ancient or even renaissance sources.)

Somewhat related, in Homer’s eyes, how strange would Crime and Punishment have been? Would he have scoffed and said it was nonsense, would he have said it was a great advance on his own art? Would he have said it was “ahead of its time”?

Split second decision required. The clothes I just threw onto the toilet tank are about to slip off. I will need either to (a) rush now to ensure that they don’t drop (b) or not rush and stoop to pick them up later. (I rush to ensure they don’t drop.)

Idea. The artwork is the avatar of the artist; he wants it to stand for him. But the artwork itself contains an avatar, which gives us a glimpse of the real artist, apart from his work — how Joyce really looks in life — Daedalus. The artist holds up his work – this is me – while the work holds up his avatar — this is him. And writings in which the author and avatar are the same — a la Montaigne– are personal letters, essays, memoirs.

The day-long battle that begins in book 3 and concludes with book 7 begins and ends also with instances of individual combat: in book 3 it is Paris vs. Menelaos, in book 7 it is Hector vs. Aias, both of which resolve inconclusively. What are we to make of this parallelism?

As a first guess I would put forward that the story told in these books is of how Hector has to take the place of Paris — how Paris’ fault has become Hector’s responsibility.

However, there’s a lot to unpack in contrasting these two duels — in terms of the causes, results, the stakes, the combatants, etc. — and I would just note for now the two most obvious things:

First, that this parallelism exists in the first place and is the sort of thing that establishes the Iliad as an artwork, rather than merely a story.

Second, that it establishes as a sort of “trans-chapter” unit the occurrences of books 3 to 7. I hope to look at the structure and story of that unit a little more closely later on.

 Is it not curious that throughout book 5 we’ve seen Athena helping Diomedes defeat the Trojans but in book 6 the Trojans have the idea of praying to Athena to help them defeat Diomedes?

My guess is, Homer wants us to witness the Trojans doing something we know to be utterly futile, which stands for the hopelessness of their situation in general.

It’s funny: we hear the rather lengthy account of the ceremony Hector’s mother is to perform three times, once from Helenus, once from Hector, and once from narration of the actual ceremony, yet Athena’s response to it is given in a single line (311): “She spoke in prayer but Athena turned her head from her.”

 This is a wild story. I have to imagine something like infant dementia is responsible.

On reflection, it seems that quite a lot of the action in the Iliad’s book 5 involves chariots and horses. A list:

— The story of Pandoras not bringing his horses to Troy. His discussion with Aeneas about who’s driving the chariot.
— Diomedes discussing the origin of Aeneas’ horses and forging a plot to abduct them — the horses of Laomedon.
— The wounded Aphrodite asking Ares for his horses and she and Iris ascending with them to Olympus. (352-369)
— The horses of Laomedon coming up again in the conflict between Tlepolemos and Sarpedon, for the sake of which, we’re told, Heracles had long ago sacked Troy.
— Athena and Hera ride down in a chariot from Olympus and hide their horses in a mist, echoing Aphrodite and Iris’ ride up. (Ares’ horses seem also to have also been in a mist, 356.)
— Athena essentially pushes Diomedes’ chariot driver out of the chariot and becomes Diomedes’ driver herself.
— Ares, on being wounded, does not, incidentally, return to Olympus on horses but on his “swift feet.” (885)

Iliad 5.179-327: the odd story of how Pandoaras came to Troy without his horses, apparently thinking they would suffer hardship there, and how the theme of horses under-girds the whole encounter between Pandoras-Aeneas and Diomedes.  In broad outline:

I. Pandoras, the archer, laments having left his horses in his homeland, which has indirectly resulted in him wounding and angering, but failing to kill, both Diomedes and Agamemnon. 

II. Aeneas and Pandoras deliberate whether Aneneas will drive the chariot into battle and Pandoras attack Diomedes or if Pandoras will drive and Aeneas attack. Aeneas commends his horse’s abilities on their native plains; Pandoras says horses should stick with a familiar driver.

III. Diomedes, meanwhile, not only declines his own companion’s suggestion that they flee on their chariot but says he will meet Aeneas and Pandoras on foot and hatches a plan for capturing Aeneas’ special horses, which he describes. (It is curious that Aeneas himself has not told us of their special provenance.)

IV. Diomedes kills Pandoras with a cast spear and disables Aeneas with a large stone. His companion makes off with their horses’ as they’d planned, and they’re taken back to the ships.

No conclusions about it, more thinking it through. One thing I’m wondering about is why Pandoras, leaving his horses behind, means he has to to be an archer. I suspect the answer there is that hand-to-hand combatants needed chariots to move into and out of combat situations quickly.

I would also say there is an idea here that Pandoras was an animal lover.