Sunday, July 26, 2020

Waiting for the load

 'Spatial Concept ‘Waiting’', Lucio Fontana | Tate
As in how we Americans mispronounce God-ot. in our attempt to sound, well, more French, as that Beckett would have wanted us, uh, to, but wasn't he, Irish? So, you mean he didn't originally write in French? Something to do with the war, with difficulty, with patience?

This below via a site while loading popped up. It sure is a slow site. Today at least. On the other hand, it stopped raining months ago. This neither being France nor Ireland. So I wait.

Title: Loading...
Year: wait until it stops raining.
You are called for interview at ten past ten only to find yourself pulling a ticket from a machine that seems designed not for the efficient parcelling of your time, only to tease, to torment. Number one hundred and forty fucking six. The practical method would be to spend such time profitably: be prepared; take a book with you. You know its going to happen because everyday you have lived, you have learned more about the deferral of events. Wait until you're older; wait until the upturn; wait until it stops raining. Whether it's the fear of failure or sheer, stupid obediance that allays the logical and most human desire to lash out at such moments is a mystery to me, but for now I'll offer no alternative. Let time sharpen your anxiety and mould it into a palpable hatred whose very formation is the precipitate of release. Just wait.
Credit: "Earth Waiting" by Eric Gill. Whose Autobiography, the first book I bought online, I found and rescued as I cleared out the latest of at least three dozen boxes from the garage.

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