12:55-1:05 I was at the keyboard of my IBM Wheelwriter making entries for my diary.
via bb
I have not read Confederacy of Dunces. I’m not sure if I want to, now. :)
I was quite amazed by this epic. It reminded me of the stacks of notebooks they find in Spacey’s apartment in the movie Seven. The ‘ellipsis’ of the entries that record recording entries is quite deliciously impossible, too. It’s all very high postmodern.
Did you ever read Confederacy of Dunces?
The main character has these long winded entries as well. Even though the content is somewhat different, the two linked in my mind. Perhaps the insipid detail reminds me if the futility of tracking minutia. The old forest for the trees phenomenon.
It also reminds me of enlarged ego. Does one really need to record the time and length of one’s shit for posterity, you fucking megalomaniacal heart attack? You don’t know whether your “goals are selfless” or not? You inflict the length of your shit and frothiness of your piss on the world!
I shit, I eat, I believe in invisible things, I talk. Shut up, oblivious monkey.