{"id":312,"date":"2014-02-24T05:56:04","date_gmt":"2014-02-24T05:56:04","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/godshampoo.com\/?p=312"},"modified":"2014-09-04T18:11:11","modified_gmt":"2014-09-04T18:11:11","slug":"in-the-time-of","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/godshampoo.com\/?p=312","title":{"rendered":"in the time of"},"content":{"rendered":"

I am not rested enough, not clean enough, to write into the fact that Love in the Time of Cholera<\/em> jumped into my hands while the taxi honked outside in the snow.\u00a0 The second sentence \u2013 the whole entire detailed vast interior of his mind, the oblique references like the very last edge of light through a closing door, aye, marone, I can\u2019t take my eyes off Jeremiah de Saint Amour naked and twisted on his had-enough floor, his shoulders broad and his legs scrawny, how Marquez even wrote the sun shining through the undersides of Saint Amour\u2019s light beard hairs, not with words but with the magical refractile pointing of his words, the matrix they make in the mind, with that little amount of ink. and for god\u2019s sake \u201cthe authority of death\u201d in case if you have ever witnessed it, it was as if Marquez came to me from behind, cupped his hand over my mouth, pulled me back, my ear to his lips, and whispered the words like a secret we must keep to save our lives.<\/p>\n

Marquez, like a demigod, a stranger, shows me a world like a ten finger string sculpture, or a narrative hand gesture, the steeple opened to all the wiggly people.<\/p>\n

Ah, Marquez is maximal.\u00a0 Not just animals but nature and depictions of strangely ordered nature.\u00a0 Marquez writes a portrait that moves and lives in real time, a veritable zoo of domesticated and unlikely undomesticated animals that Urbino\u2019s wife made of their home when they were young.\u00a0 The deer is coming in through the window, the deer is coming in the window to eat the first word I\u2019ll have to look up.. anthurium. It will be an outdoor plant because Marquez wouldn\u2019t have it any other way, this anthurium in the kitchen that the deer comes in to eat on account of what love has allowed in Urbino\u2019s own home, given that he dislikes animals.\u00a0Except his parrot with “all the qualities of a gentleman”, holy god, pupil of his and how the Prime Minister or Whomever and his entourage arrived after long tropical travel in velvety top hats, a la colonialism at its which-one-of-these-things-is-not-like-the-other best, to meet the famed bird. \u00a0And then Marquez has the parrot not say a word for the entire two hour visit, proving to his reader that he is, in fact, writing about the world we live in<\/b>.\u00a0\u00a0 Every moment for Marquez is a gazing pool. \u00a0I imagine him silvery and a little fat in his fine dress shirt, his breath boozy at his moustache, dancing, cigar tucked shallowly between his fingers, too.<\/p>\n

Marquez remembers everything clearly, all the natures and the humors and the funny two-way glass at the intersection of god and man, and the infinite reflection that presents.\u00a0 How the city is the shell with an abominable inhabitant, humanity, which despite all its many Death is a continually renewing scourge on the city itself.\u00a0 And doing so Marquez creates City without Humanity and while it is rock and divine, it is not man, who comes later, in Marquez\u2019 creation story, man comes in shortly after camp is set, man invades, opportunistically, circusly, and smelling of fried fish.\u00a0 And then he calls the other side of town \u2018another time\u2019 as his way of delineating dimensions we normally perceive all together.\u00a0 He sets us gazing about a cool dim colonial parlor, at the fine china and crystal, the absurd baubles of a less tremulous life, at the idiosyncratic self a person makes of what\u2019s around, like a crow makes a nest.<\/p>\n

Just like it\u2019s a mystery to me how the music comes through the mind, it\u2019s a mystery to me of the same size how character and story come through, so fully formed, like as through Marquez. I can only write like pinching for minnows with my thumb and forefinger in a pail of water.\u00a0 But so as the writing somehow tunes the fingers, typing as digital calisthenics to prepare the hands to cause the shadows to be cast just so.\u00a0 Or writing as the exercise of my finger passing through that shadowy, bending maw of possibility, to touch the outside edge of the eye.<\/p>\n

Marquez is out on a rickety but lucky fishing boat, strapped to a wooden chair that is nailed to the deck, the silver loops of his arching fishing rod glinting like monocles all in a row keeping sight of his line piercing the roiling surface of the page to the twisting, pulling creatures below.<\/p>\n

I think of Marquez\u2019 description of boat fumes as a putrefied angel.\u00a0 There is the salty Atlantic smell, different from the fruity Caribbean sea, the Atlantic air, more astringent, and the glurgh-glurghling sounds where man meets the peaking grey-green surface tipping back and forth at its giant mercy, the boats and the five gallon buckets of whatever is in them, crabs and fish, and fish carnage for fishing, and the spasmodic clacking and white falling smoke, heavy with oil, of waiting boat motor.\u00a0 And how the worst place to stand of all is with one foot on the dock and one on the boat.\u00a0 And all so that later we will get a little drunk and breathe the night ocean air.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I am not rested enough, not clean enough, to write into the fact that Love in the Time of Cholera jumped into my hands while the taxi honked outside in the snow.\u00a0 The second sentence \u2013 the whole entire detailed vast interior of his mind, the oblique references like the very last edge of light … Continue reading in the time of<\/span> →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":322,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-312","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/godshampoo.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/312","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/godshampoo.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/godshampoo.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/godshampoo.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/godshampoo.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=312"}],"version-history":[{"count":14,"href":"https:\/\/godshampoo.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/312\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":903,"href":"https:\/\/godshampoo.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/312\/revisions\/903"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/godshampoo.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/322"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/godshampoo.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=312"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/godshampoo.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=312"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/godshampoo.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=312"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}