Thursday, June 23, 2005

Father Time hangs the children

So it has already been established that the last thing I do before going to sleep at night (no matter how late) is to read Thomas Hardy under the covers by flashlight. Never has it taken me so long to get through a book-- 'Jude' is only a few hundred pages long, and I haven't finished it yet--but that 's an aside--and a frustrating one--I am reading like a sexually unsatisfied middle aged woman... perhaps that is an evil thing to say, but fuck it. I feel evil this morning. Perhaps because I read Thomas Hardy right before going to sleep, and the scene I hit was perhaps (Can it get worse?) the most horrifying moment in the book--when the parents discover that their oldest charge has hanged their children and himself in the closet in their mean old lodgings in Christminster.

This is Hardy's cruelest moment, his baldest moment, and the moment when he hits his point perhaps a little to hard--even though, in life, such things do happen (need I mention the recent horrors on the internet of the monk crucifying the nun? sounds like a bad joke. To Hardy life is a bad joke, and he seems to believe that most of us, if not all, are born with desires that we will only live to see thwarted, stunted, or compromised. That the conflict between our natural yearnings and the shape of existence is so deep that it brings frustration, madness, shame, and ultimately, death, in myriad unfair and hopelessly depressing forms. Sometimes, when I am feeling particularly down, I almost agree with him. However, he was really a social revolutionary in a way I could never be. But I am babbling.

I guess my only point is,
never mind.
I don't have one. This post was interrupted by a difficult phone call.
Now I feel exactly as Hardy did.
Thwarted. Stunted. Compromised.

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