Log24

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Wednesday June 17, 2009

Filed under: General — Tags: — m759 @ 4:30 AM

Back to the Real

Colum McCann on yesterday’s history:

“Fiction gives us access to a very real history.”

The Associated Press thought for today:

“Journalism allows its readers to witness history; fiction gives its readers an opportunity to live it.”

— John Hersey, American author (born on this date in 1914, died 1993).

From John Hersey’s The Child Buyer (1960):

“I was wondering about that this morning… About forgetting. I’ve always had an idea that each memory was a kind of picture, an insubstantial picture. I’ve thought of it as suddenly coming into your mind when you need it, something you’ve seen, something you’ve heard, then it may stay awhile, or else it flies out, then maybe it comes back another time…. If all the pictures went out, if I forgot everything, where would they go? Just out into the air? Into the sky? Back home around my bed, where my dreams stay?”

“We keep coming back and coming back
To the real: to the hotel instead of the hymns….”

— Wallace Stevens

Hotel Bella Vista, Cuernavaca, Morelos, Mexico

Postcard from eBay
From Under the Volcano, by Malcolm Lowry, 1947, Chapter I: 

Faustus is gone: regard his hellish fall —
Shaken, M. Laruelle replaced the book on the table… he reached to the floor for a folded sheet of paper that had fluttered out of it. He picked the paper up between two fingers and unfolded it, turning it over. Hotel Bella Vista, he read. There were really two sheets of uncommonly thin hotel notepaper….

I sit now in a little room off the bar at four-thirty in the morning drinking ochas and then mescal and writing this on some Bella Vista notepaper I filched the other night…. But this is worst of all, to feel your soul dying. I wonder if it is because to-night my soul has really died that I feel at the moment something like peace. Or is it because right through hell there is a path, as Blake well knew, and though I may not take it, sometimes lately in dreams I have been able to see it? …And this is how I sometimes think of myself, as a great explorer who has discovered some extraordinary land from which he can never return to give his knowledge to the world: but the name of this land is hell. It is not Mexico of course but in the heart.

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