Old metal pot of literature

"History is the art of making an argument about the past by telling a story accountable to evidence," writes Jill Lepore, historian and writer for The New Yorker, among other publications.

"Writing is completely impossible...and yet it must emerge from reality, from a dimension that seldom reveals itself," writes Adam Zagajewski, Polish poet, in his book of essays, "Slight Exaggeration."

Soon after making a concerted effort to read the cream of early to late 19th to 20th c Euro literature--in this case, Leopardi, Flaubert, Pessoa, Bernhard--I come across Walter Benjamin's pronouncement that every document of civilization is also a document of barbarism. I don't know what to do with, it's like hearing James Brown sing "I Feel Good" first thing in the morning.

A reader is always, in his or her own way, placed in the old-fashioned existential position of being completely on his or her own, realizing, sooner or later, that only he or she can make their own life and that sooner or later some definite action much be taken toward doing so.

Lines in the James McMurtry song, "Hurricane Party", resonate: "And I don't want another drink,/I only want the last one again."

Last night after dinner I washed out the big metal pot dinner was made in, realizing the old thing would outlive me. Once the pot was cleaned and dried I held it high over my head like I'd just won The U.S. Open.