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Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Jude

....the Obscure. Hey, Linda! Hey, Gil! I actually do know what you mean when you intimate that I am often obscure, but sometimes I wish to willfully misunderstand for reasons of my own: usually to bring into relief just how bloody brilliant I am, or fancy myself to be. There are many things written that seem obscure, even to me. But I do look at them and they sort of glimmer, like going in and out of focus, so I am not quite sure. I tend to think of such "obscurities" as being somewhat akin to the poetry of Emily Dickenson; it sort of leads you around with everyday language, sort of squiring you about, arm in arm, as it were, until suddenly she laughs "Ha!" and pushes you off a shallow balcony into the mud. You are never quite sure what it all means after that.

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