"All the Hues
That Fit, We Tint"

Siberia, USA: Today, global warming. Tonight, dark, unless you count the stars. Tomorrow can be reached via time machine. Yesterday, who can remember that far back?

Websafe Studio, blogging since 2003, featuring art, comics, digital whiteboards, virtual characters, Web design, writing

Wednesday, February 20, 2008


The Mirror: Saints don't have the urge to write novels

Websafe: Hello?
The Mirror: By all means, let's follow up on the obvious.
W: I have an obvious question.
M: Does Pinter have a powerful mirror?
W: Pinter is a powerful writer.
M: Right now, right here: Escape.
W: Escape from that pressing need to prove oneself.
M: Non-specific.
W: Prove oneself by writing a novel.
M: I don't know how.
W: Neither do I!
M: That comes from Cheaper by the Dozen.
W: Are you charging me with plagiarism?
M: This is the chance to lose myself, and acquire something I frame.
W: There is a double framing device at the start of The Turn of the Screw.
M: Are you at the apex?
W: I don't think I've reached that part of the story yet.
M: Poetic intelligence is not about competition.
W: Thank you very much for reminding me.
M: The inner ring of memory.
W: That's what you are, the whispering inner voice.
M: I work when I can, when the world lets me.
W: Most of the time the world would prefer to drown you out.
M: Everything I desire rushes toward me at tremendous speed.
W: Is that a wish or a reality?
M: Pinter is a powerful writer.
W: I wonder how Pinter got started?
M: What other occasions were you considering?
W: Maybe I shouldn't think about people's starts, but their middles.
M: That's called denial, you know.
W: You think I'm denying the difficulty involved in writing serious literary fiction?
M: Neither do I!
W: OK, we both agree that it's very difficult.
M: It isn't nothing, this "paying attention" business.
W: It takes a great deal of energy to pay attention, life-energy.
M: It didn't hurt.
W: It hurts now, in a way, in the form of exhaustion.
M: A life impenetrable to St. Thomas (me).
W: Saints don't have the urge to write novels.
M: Protection.
W: They are protected from that urge by focusing on their mission.
M: On the quiver and quake that has no name to it.
W: Those would be the mystics.
M: I can see you without a Web cam.
W: You can read behind my words.
M: The secret to enthusiasm is knowing when to stop.
W: That conserves energy for the morrow.
M: You must be using a different Google than me.
W: Are you using a special, secret version of Google?
M: Do we get there by changing the subject, is it that simple?
W: Maybe by not thinking about writing, I will do it?
M: Presenting one's mementi.
W: That would be presenting one's letters, perhaps.
M: Yes?
W: But that would be very personal.
M: A complete sangfroid in the face of death.
W: Only martyrs know such things.
M: Maybe by not thinking about writing, I will do it?
W: Do you ever think about writing?
M: I hope you're not going to sell flowers in airports.
W: Is it a cult, this writing business?
M: The Round Table would have to answer that.
W: King Arthur and the Moonies.
M: Weren't they afraid of making a left turn?
W: I think the Moonies are pretty conservative.
M: Those would be the mystics.
W: Mystics are apolitical.
M: Paradise is just one long conversation.
W: You've reminded me that I have to look up "quietism."
M: Are you one of those people who refuses to be at one with the world?
W: You must admit that it is very difficult to do that.
M: I won't go to Vegas.
W: That would be entirely too wordly!
M: That sounds a little daunting.
W: It certainly does, what if you went broke?
M: I wasn't being condescending!
W: I didn't think you were.
M: When I close my eyes, no images arise, just a field of black seeded particles, tiny vortices of blackness.
W: So perhaps you are a pure materialist, with the rods and cones.
M: This was the uncontrollable part of himself, which dressed well to go into the streets.
W: Concerned with outward appearance, the material world, even Mammon.
M: It's a failure.
W: The illusion cannot hold.
M: So I am now ready for anything, really.
W: You've passed totally beyond illusion.
M: I did not.
W: You're still dressing well?
M: Only when people try to make it an earthly paradise.
W: It would be paradise indeed if people still dressed for dinner.
M: (Hides)
W: Goodbye!
M: Closing in 1 second ... Goodbye!