Pages

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

"Everything has been figured out, except how to live."


I made up a word: "exhaustential." It's how I feel.

Because I am a girl given to fatalism, bracing myself for YET ANOTHER of Chicago's cruel winters, I am totally giving in to the overwhelming existential angst that's encroaching, and adjusting my reading list accordingly. I just finished The General in His Labyrinth by Gabrial Garcia Marquez--definitely not his best work, but it has that dreamy lush quicksand-y feel that I love about his writing. Alas, now I am abandoning all that languid beauty: the heat sickness and the overripe guavas and making love in the middle of assassination attempts.

Instead, I'm reading Nausea by Sartre and Madame Bovary by Flaubert, two books that have been sitting unread and unloved on my bookshelf for about six months, both French, both existential to the max, both full of disillusionment. I'll read them at the same time, the way foodies pair wine and cheese, and fashionistas gravitate toward wearing two shoes at once. I hope I emerge very pale, with a vague longing for blood, and skin that sparkles if I stumble upon a ray of sunlight. Yes, French Existentialism = vampires. What?!

I miss Marquez already. Everything would be different if I had a plane ticket to South America circa the early 1800s.

3 comments:

  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Ugh. I love Marquez. I tried to read something about space and time by Sartre, and my brain felt like it was going through a cheesecloth. Not very pretty. Proust and Lacan you may like though too.. :)

    NERD NERD NERD. Miss you.

    Connie

    ReplyDelete
  3. HAHAHAHA girl expect me to be complaining about sartre very soon.

    COME BACK TO IL AND BE NERDS WITH MEEEEE!

    ReplyDelete

You are truly great.