What, exactly, does goggle mean? And I concur about It screwing around with us lately.
On definitions of love/love lost– today in my world lit class we were discussing Oates’ riff on Chekhov’s “The Lady With the Pet Dog,” and the discussion reached a ‘conclusion’ that deepest, true love only exists when one self no longer needs the other self, understands the separateness of identity, yet loves the other more than his/her own self, or at least one’s “self-sorrowing pity.” Pretty hard to disagree with, but interesting in terms of the bliss specifically of union.
Walcott, in “Blues”: “Still, it taught me something about love. If it’s so tough, forget it.” [something to chew on]
Svoboda, “Do Machines Bleed?”: “So they talked and talked/ and the talk ended up being/ more than the mermaid, more than/ a story enchantment,/ the way the talk of love/ transforms itself from an ache into the soft flip of a fish/ coming aboard.”
I love that little fish.
Lastly, on love/time (I think specifically of David O.’s poem), Anne Carson: “perhaps the hardest thing about losing a lover is to watch the year repeat its days.” — “The Glass Essay” (beautiful.)
Here are the crazy Baubo figurines from Turkey:
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