It doesn’t matter that I read everything from Plato to Dostoyevsky
to Faludi and Greer, that I can write complex algorithms as well
as the occasional stanza or two, and that I know the difference
between epistemology and epistolography. To you, I’m just a bore.
At least we didn’t need to extend our only date beyond the length
of the promenade, and your blunt assessment quickly cured me
of online dating.
Whenever I recalled my youth,
full of Dostoevsky, recreational carnality,
and conviction-laced twaddle,
all I could remember were the curtains
that granted me a sense of innocence.
But as time passes, I wonder: if I lived
up to my own past words, with age,
would doubts arise?
I watched A Single Man this afternoon. I’ve seen this film so many times that I’ve lost count. I have a habit of watching films that make an exceptionally great impression on me over and over again, sometimes even several times a day if time allows. This was the case, for example, with Mr. Nobody, directed by Jaco Van Dormael, which, by the way, wasn’t the only film of his that I liked so much—The Brand New Testament also received its fair share of my time. Another one is Columbus, Kogonada’s directorial debut, a new discovery that I still relish. But this doesn’t just apply to relatively new films. For example, Billy Wilder’s The Apartment is also on my list.
When I think about it, there is no denying that I am a film buff. However, I can’t think of many books to which I have returned often. While still a teenager, I had a period when I read Honoré de Balzac’s Father Goriot several times—by the way, one of only a few books that made me cry. Of course, I had my favourite authors, and I read almost everything they wrote—Fyodor Dostoyevsky and Saul Bellow, to name just two—but the book that is always at my fingertips is Witold Gombrowicz’s Diary. Strangely enough, apart from Diary, of all he wrote, I have only read Ferdydurke and Trans-Atlantyk, and neither of these two made any significant impression on me. Don’t get me wrong, they weren’t bad; I just don’t feel like I would have missed out if I hadn’t read them, while Diary is my Bible.
hidden pilcrow 