Wednesday, November 24, 2010

saevit toto Mars impius orbe

So the gods agreed to exterminate mankind. Enlil did this, but Ea because of his oath warned me in a dream. He whispered their words to my house of reeds, "Reed-house, reed-house! Wall, O wall, hearken reed-house, wall reflect; O man of Shurrupak, son of Ubara-Tutu; tear down your house and build a boat, abandon possessions and look for life, despise wordly goods and save your soul alive. Tear down your house, I say, and build a boat. These are the measurements of the barque as you shall build her: let her beam equal her length, let her deck be roofed like the vault that covers the abyss; then take up into the boat the seed of all living creatures." N.K. Sandars, The Epic of Gilgamesh, The Story of the Flood, (Penguin: 1960), p.108 | [...] their minds acid with professional jealousy, farcical ghosts who called one another cher maitre... U. Eco, Foucault's Pendulum | I’ve spent ten days being depressed. Now I’m starting to get better. It seems that I may be liquidating a whole bunch of my neuroses forever. For three days I have sat through high-speed psychoanalysis with one of the most renowned doctors in the States (the editor of The Psychoanalytic Review), my good friend Dr Stragnell. Very interesting. We have uncovered fifty per cent of my ‘doubt’ complex – this is, of course, my sore spot. We have been applying a scientific method – this isn’t the usual quack treatment. The latest hysterical depression (during my present fortunate circumstances!) upset me so much that I decided to root out the guilty group of neuroses (without touching the others). My decision happened to coincide with Dr Stragnell’s arrival (sometimes I’m lucky). It’s very interesting to see how my doubt obsession developed and who and what are guilty. Imagine, Pearl! I will no longer need constant affirmation! To hell with it all! I will be able to do everything! S. Eisenstein: link | "Jott, junge Herr, sunst schrewen S' doch ümmer ihrst, o'r schicken uns Baarschen o'r den kleenen inglischen Kierl. Un nu keen Wort nich. Awers ick wußt et joa, as de Poggen hüt oabend mit ehr Gequoak nich to Enn koam künn'n. 'Jei, jei, Mutter', seggt ick, 'dat bedüt wat!' Awers as the Fruenslü sinn! Wat seggt se? 'Wat sall et bedüten?' seggt se, 'Regen bedüt es. Un dat's man gaud. Denn uns Tüffeln bruken't.'" Fontane, Schach von Wuthenow