Comments on: Campaign http://www.oleoptene.com/2009/04/26/campaign/ A blog for Mara Collins Sun, 20 Nov 2011 04:12:17 +0000 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.1 By: unreliable narrator http://www.oleoptene.com/2009/04/26/campaign/comment-page-1/#comment-8892 unreliable narrator Thu, 30 Apr 2009 07:07:49 +0000 http://www.oleoptene.com/?p=341#comment-8892 PS Night before last I fell asleep dreaming a poem. I told myself to get up and write it down, but of course I didn't. It was so lovely and cerulean and SHORT. And just before I nodded off, I realized what I should call it: "Skiey"! The perfect title, I thought happily; and lost myself, and the poem, in unconsciousness. But it might have had something in it about looking down into a cup, but over the rim so as not to fill the water with my reflected face, and thus being able to see instead a full blue circle of you-know-what. PS Night before last I fell asleep dreaming a poem. I told myself to get up and write it down, but of course I didn’t. It was so lovely and cerulean and SHORT. And just before I nodded off, I realized what I should call it: “Skiey”! The perfect title, I thought happily; and lost myself, and the poem, in unconsciousness.

But it might have had something in it about looking down into a cup, but over the rim so as not to fill the water with my reflected face, and thus being able to see instead a full blue circle of you-know-what.

]]> By: unreliable narrator http://www.oleoptene.com/2009/04/26/campaign/comment-page-1/#comment-8688 unreliable narrator Mon, 27 Apr 2009 16:37:25 +0000 http://www.oleoptene.com/?p=341#comment-8688 I love the skyey! And I love you, not least for caring about it. We should write Cormac about it—<i>he</i> would find a way to stick that word in there somewheres. When I was a wee brat I made my own illuminated copy of "The Hound of Heaven." I should rummage around and go dig it out, see what color I made the flowers. I feel certain they are pale blue. Last night I slumped against the Brujo's office door and wept my FACE off, having just finished <i>The Road</i> for the third or fourth time. The ending hits me harder with every reading—this one was just blinding. Why do I say all this? I say it in the service of arguing, for some reason, that skyey is indeed about more than just sky. That it requires an immanence to be. Amidst the oft-noted lack of color in McCarthy's novel is of course the leaden overhead, not even properly worthy of being called a sky anymore. But also, it could be as blue as it wanted—if there isn't an earthly anchor for its arching purity, the ceiling cannot be meaningful. Am I still asleep? I don't think so. This risks turning into some version of "so much depends upon / the red wheelbarrow," but I maintain that the *blossoms* being skyey is crucial. The frail living transience of them, placed against and partaking of a heaven which writers have long believed fixed and permanent, in some way. Maybe. I love the skyey! And I love you, not least for caring about it. We should write Cormac about it—he would find a way to stick that word in there somewheres. When I was a wee brat I made my own illuminated copy of “The Hound of Heaven.” I should rummage around and go dig it out, see what color I made the flowers. I feel certain they are pale blue.

Last night I slumped against the Brujo’s office door and wept my FACE off, having just finished The Road for the third or fourth time. The ending hits me harder with every reading—this one was just blinding. Why do I say all this? I say it in the service of arguing, for some reason, that skyey is indeed about more than just sky. That it requires an immanence to be.

Amidst the oft-noted lack of color in McCarthy’s novel is of course the leaden overhead, not even properly worthy of being called a sky anymore. But also, it could be as blue as it wanted—if there isn’t an earthly anchor for its arching purity, the ceiling cannot be meaningful.

Am I still asleep? I don’t think so. This risks turning into some version of “so much depends upon / the red wheelbarrow,” but I maintain that the *blossoms* being skyey is crucial. The frail living transience of them, placed against and partaking of a heaven which writers have long believed fixed and permanent, in some way.

Maybe.

]]> By: Lara http://www.oleoptene.com/2009/04/26/campaign/comment-page-1/#comment-8678 Lara Mon, 27 Apr 2009 11:36:03 +0000 http://www.oleoptene.com/?p=341#comment-8678 During one period of waiting in the hotel room in Seoul I found myself watching a Korean tv documentary on a middle-aged Korean photographer traveling in Bolivia. The show followed him on his excursions across high desert plains, where the sky was a startling tumult of clouds flowing over mountain ranges and evaporating, an indescribably vast, overwhelming sky. Even though I could not follow the commentary (perhaps an advantage?)Watching his face watching the sky was telling its own story, his expression of awe, rapture and humility - it was strange to see someone else so clearly experiencing those private yet seemingly universal emotions in the face of the overwhelming beauty of nature...Skiey...I will cherish this word as I continue to contemplate the ever changing beauty above! During one period of waiting in the hotel room in Seoul I found myself watching a Korean tv documentary on a middle-aged Korean photographer traveling in Bolivia. The show followed him on his excursions across high desert plains, where the sky was a startling tumult of clouds flowing over mountain ranges and evaporating, an indescribably vast, overwhelming sky. Even though I could not follow the commentary (perhaps an advantage?)Watching his face watching the sky was telling its own story, his expression of awe, rapture and humility – it was strange to see someone else so clearly experiencing those private yet seemingly universal emotions in the face of the overwhelming beauty of nature…Skiey…I will cherish this word as I continue to contemplate the ever changing beauty above!

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