DISCOURSE as quilting

Welcome to the intersection of P. L. Thomas writing about his writing and other writers' writing to explore discourse as quilting.

remnant 71: “What did Harvard teach you?”

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I see you rushing down
Tell me how to reach you
I see you rushing now
What did Harvard teach you?

“Sea of Love,” The National

Hear The National Talk About How They Wrote “Sea Of Love”

“I had to take a lot of courses that I hated,” [William Moulton Marston] explained. English A: Rhetoric and Composition was a required course for freshmen. “I wanted to write and English A, at Harvard, wouldn’t let you write,” he complained. “It made you spell and punctuate. If you wrote anything you felt like writing, enjoyed writing, your paper was marked flunk in red pencil.”

The Secret History of Wonder Woman, Jill Lepore

The Secret History of Wonder Woman, Jill Lepore

See E.E. Cummings: A Life, Susan Cheever, for a fellow Harvard graduate with Marston.

E.E. Cummings: A Life, Susan Cheever

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December 23, 2014 at 10:18 pm

remnant 70: “I was afraid I’d eat your brains”

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The sheep man cocked his head to one side. “Wow, that’s a tough one.”

“Please, tell me. My mother is waiting for me back home.”

“Okay, kid. Then I’ll give it to you straight. The top of your head’ll be sawed off and all your brain’ll get slurped right up.”

I was too shocked for words.

“You mean,” I said, when I had recovered, “you mean that old man’s going to eat my brains?”

“Yes, I’m really sorry, but that’s the way it has to be,” the sheep man said, reluctantly.

The Strange Library, Haruki Murakami

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“Conversation 16”

The National

…I was afraid
I’d eat your brains
I was afraid
I’d eat your brains
Cause I’m evil
Cause I’m evil…

Written by plthomasedd

December 18, 2014 at 3:27 pm

remnant 69: “It hurts to love”

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Sontag love hurts copy

 

Reborn: Journals and Notebooks, 1947-1963, Susan Sontag

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December 11, 2014 at 12:40 pm

remnant 68: “I was a television version of a person with a broken heart”

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Gwen Stacy

The Night Gwen Stacy Died. (c) Marvel Comics

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December 10, 2014 at 6:10 pm

remnant 67: “But you do discover that you are a writer…”

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…but the truth is that I don’t think that, seriously speaking, anybody in his right mind would want to be a writer. But you do discover that you are a writer and then you haven’t got any choice. You live that life or you won’t live any.

James Baldwin, Interview by Studs Terkel 29 December 1961

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December 5, 2014 at 2:02 am

Posted in James Baldwin, remnant 67

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remnant 66: “I wait for the click. I wait, but it doesn’t kick in”

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You said “I think I’m like Tennessee Williams”
I wait for the click. I wait, but it doesn’t kick in
I think I’m like Tennessee Williams
I wait for the click. I wait, but it doesn’t kick in

“City Middle,” The National

Brick: Somethin’ hasn’t happened yet.
Big Daddy: What’s that?
Brick: A click in my head.
Big Daddy: Did you say “click”?
Brick: Yes sir, the click in my head that makes me feel peaceful.
Big Daddy: Boy, sometimes you worry me.
Brick: It’s like a switch, clickin’ off in my head. Turns the hot light off and the cool one on, and all of a sudden there’s peace.
Big Daddy: Boy, you’re, you’re a real alcoholic!
Brick: That is the truth. Yes, sir, I am an alcoholic. So if you’d just excuse me…
Big Daddy: [grabbing him] No, I won’t excuse you.
Brick: Now I’m waitin’ for that click and I don’t get it. Listen, I’m all alone. I’m talkin’ to no one where there’s absolute quiet.
Big Daddy: You’ll hear plenty of that in the grave soon enough.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Tennessee Williams

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1958)

 

 

 

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November 2, 2014 at 12:59 pm

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remnant 65: “The prospect of losing that made him saddest of all”

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It was also possible that he would, at some point, be deprived of his freedom entirely, in which case not only Scheherazade but all women would disappear from his life. Never again would he be able to enter the warm moistness of their bodies. Never again would he feel them quiver in response. Perhaps an even more distressing prospect for Habara than the cessation of sexual activity, however, was the loss of the moments of shared intimacy. What his time spent with women offered was the opportunity to be embraced by reality, on the one hand, while negating it entirely on the other. That was something Scheherazade had provided in abundance—indeed, her gift was inexhaustible. The prospect of losing that made him saddest of all.

“Scheherazade,” Haruki Murakami

“Slipped”

The National

I’m having trouble inside my skin
I tried to keep my skeletons in…

I don’t need any help to be breakable, believe me
I know nobody else who can laugh along to any kind of joke
I won’t need any help to be lonely when you leave me

Written by plthomasedd

October 6, 2014 at 8:36 pm