Jottings on literature, fragments, and musings on the past glories and current sorry state of Western Civilisation, written to the moment. As seen by an erudite cat.
The haiku reminds us of what has never happened to us; in it we recognize a repetition without origin, an event without cause, a memory without person, a language without moorings.
Like all cats, I have nine lives. I'm spending this one on Formosa where I ended up, consequent on a particularly heavy meal of fishheads, after falling asleep on a container ship out of Lisbon. I'm twenty two hundred years old, counting all my lives together (I think, although after so long, naturally, one tends to lose count) and spend most of my time reading.
My longevity has given me a certain, shall we say, perspective, on history. In recent years, I have become convinced that Western Civilisation is in its twilight phase. With the unquestioned rise of all varieties of fundamentalism everywhere, the once vaunted virtues of our post-Enlightenment civilisation -tolerance, a belief in reason, the discarding of superstition- are under threat. Read and consider these fragments and responses from long lifetimes of reading and writing. Intellectual, but not academic, highbrow of course. (It is perhaps the most dilatarious effect of the Age of Twilight, that being highbrow is something one feels one ought to apologise for.) Anyway, it's all in the words. You try typing with paws. Purr.
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