File spoon-archives/heidegger.archive/heidegger_1999/heidegger.9901, message 204


Subject: Re: race...
Date: Sun, 31 Jan 1999 01:53:06 -0500 (EST)


Dear John you crazy canuck,

	You want to swap what you wrote for what I wrote? I don't think
so. You have only seen the tip of this crazy canuck iceberg--the
TITANIC (Heidegger Archival memories) is goin' down on a trip, down fast
ice. You just alienated the Whole World, you are an embarrasement to me
as a Canadian. You are not smoking dope are you? Like that kid with the
board, the cultural hero who did wonders for International public
opinion whose ethnic name I can't pronounce. You are not smoking
Deleuzian rhizomatic weed in an Eskimo dreamtime soapstonepipe are you?
I think you better check the wax on those skiis, you are going way over
everybody heads, slow down a bit, relax, you are starting to scare me.
It's been a while since I have been this anxious. You just wait, you
don't know literary pressure like I do. 
 
What you said about the stove was interesting. I have read your piece
twice, it's fascinating I must say, I am sure I will read it a few more
times. I was nearly speechless there for a second. I have been thinking
about this list for well over five hours this evening. I will probably
have a hard time going to sleep tonight and I have to work in the
morning. You know, I am *not completely unemployed. Yes, i enjoy being
online, first-draft quality and out she goes.... I will even be more
impressed if that was your first-draft quality. This is a fly by night
Canadian smuggling operation on the border-writing stirring the smooth
waters, crisp and cool. It was Wallace Stevens that wrote a poem called
The Snow Man, where he suggests that "one must have a mind of winter in
order to take a good look at those frosty trees tiping over with ice
and snow, bowing before the elemental Alchemy that by virtue of
L'imaginal learns to listen, for the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds Nothing that is not there and the nothing
that is. (p. 9 _The Complete Poems_)

Q.E.D.

Crazy Feathers,
Ariosto 


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