Tag Archives: blindness

An attempt at José Saramago’s Style, or, Trying to kill ten minutes of precious time.

At the art history library, where art is read about, and where the reading about of art in turn makes itself a sort of internal performance for the soul that outwardly manifests itself in the form of a college student sitting in a comfortable leather or old black wooden chair or at a table, flipping through an oversized codex of pictures of naked paints and the severe intercourse of grammar and space, or whatever, is also the setting of my keyboard’s monologue to the only other person on this floor, for it is a sunday, the day of rest, or rather, the day of refusing to do anything on my part in preparation for sitting there at holy mass half listening, Who’s to say that that is the way it should be, Who’s to say i’m consciously preparing for half-attention, You’re right, which in turn means that i am right, because face it, you’re grasping for deepness where the shallowness suffices in providing a clear image of your temporary intentions, Shall i pay attention at holy mass, then, Yes, by all means.

R.I.P. (and in God’s kindly misericordiate graces), S. Saramago. -2010