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De File
Does Collecting Make You Feel Dirty?
Passion For the Signifier
It played for him--certainly in this prime afterglow--the part of a treasure kept at home in safety and sanctity, something he was sure of finding in its place when, with each return, he worked his heavy old key in the lock. The door had but to open for him to be with it again and for it to be all there; so intensely there that, as we say, no other act was possible to him than the renewed act, almost the hallucination, of intimacy. Wherever he looked or sat or stood, to whatever aspect he gave for the instant the advantage, it was in view as nothing of the moment, nothing begotten of time or of chance could be, or ever would; it was in view as, when the curtain has risen, the play on the stage is in view, night after night, for the fiddlers. He remained thus, in his own theatre, in his single person, perpetual orchestra to the ordered drama, the confirmed "run"; playing low and slow, moreover, in the regular way, for the situations of most importance. No other visitor was to come to him; he met, he bumped occasionally, in the Piazza or in his walks, against claimants to acquaintance, remembered or forgotten, at present mostly effusive, sometimes even inquisitive; but he gave no address and encouraged no approach; he couldn't for his life, he felt, have opened his door to a third person.

Screen door opens with a double click

Such a person would have interrupted him, would have profaned his secret or perhaps have guessed it; would at any rate have broken the spell of what he conceived himself--in the absence of anything "to show"--to be inwardly doing. He was giving himself up--that was quite enough--to the general feeling of his renewed engagement to fidelity. The force of the engagement, the quantity of the article to be supplied, the special solidity of the contract, the way, above all, as a service for which the price named by him had been magnificently paid, his equivalent office was to take effect--such items might well fill his consciousness when there was nothing from outside to interfere. Never was a consciousness more rounded and fastened down over what filled it; which is precisely what we have spoken of as, in its degree, the oppression of success, the somewhat chilled state--tending to the solitary--of supreme recognition. If it was slightly awful to feel so justified, this was by the loss of the warmth of the element of mystery. The lucid reigned instead of it, and it was into the lucid that he sat and stared. He shook himself out of it a dozen times a day, tried to break by his own act his constant still communion. It wasn't still communion she had meant to bequeath him; it was the very different business of that kind of fidelity of which the other name was careful action.

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Current Location: 85704
Muse: Bob Mould - It's Too Late - Black Sheets of Rain

5 comments or Leave a comment
From: e4q Date: August 5th, 2010 11:26 am (UTC) (LINK TO SPECIFIC ENTRY)
ooh, i love that picture, it's like a really great version of black on black flock wallpaper. if i was really rich i would design a line of flock wallpaper, the traditional style is so boring.
cbertsch From: cbertsch Date: August 5th, 2010 05:22 pm (UTC) (LINK TO SPECIFIC ENTRY)
Maybe I should go into wallpaper design!


I was really pleased with the photo and its conversion into black and white. But it looked much better on my desktop's monitor than it does on the laptop, which renders it much too dark.
elizabeg From: elizabeg Date: August 6th, 2010 02:53 am (UTC) (LINK TO SPECIFIC ENTRY)
Beyond beautiful.

I'm glad I got to see the image on my large monitor at work this morning--but honestly, Charlie, it's still breathtaking on a small screen.

And the pronouns!
cbertsch From: cbertsch Date: August 6th, 2010 11:54 pm (UTC) (LINK TO SPECIFIC ENTRY)
I'm glad you saw it on the large monitor, too, because my laptop renders it almost impossible to see, even though the 21" monitor shows it bright and clear. I'm glad you liked it.
art_thirst From: art_thirst Date: August 6th, 2010 03:34 am (UTC) (LINK TO SPECIFIC ENTRY)
I kept staring at that image waiting for *something* to reveal itself. Just as I was about to scroll down I saw a haunted spirit floating off to the side! ;-)
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