An Apologia to the Walser and Musil Families
(Feb 20/06)
It has been brought to my attention that I am a scurrilous bore. This comment was made in reference to my postings concerning Mr. Walser and Mr. Musil’s deaths and rottenness, or more aptly, the state of their decomposition. As I have met neither man, nor their remaining family, I see no harm in poking goodhearted fun at their misfortune and anatomical corruption/putrescence. I, too, and perhaps sooner than I am wont, will find myself in a selfsame plight of decompose. Having been party some years past to the discovery of a body in the early throes of rigger mortis, I find all block and tackle of rebus a mnemonic nightmare. Screen memories, whether Lacanian or post-Freudian, make me ill at ease, sickly and peripatetic with loathsomeness. Concomitant to that, or those, is my own encroaching deafness, which has adumbrated my ability to hear the most blaring sonic swell. Con concomitant to that, those and these, is the sorry state of my seeing-sight, which has begun to cross in at the bridge of my beakcove. So if I take it upon myself to do a little poking and goodhearted tomfoolery, please understand that I, too, suffer from a pre-mortis de rigger, albeit one less crumbly and limed. (And the corruption of the Italic-es)
It has been brought to my attention that I am a scurrilous bore. This comment was made in reference to my postings concerning Mr. Walser and Mr. Musil’s deaths and rottenness, or more aptly, the state of their decomposition. As I have met neither man, nor their remaining family, I see no harm in poking goodhearted fun at their misfortune and anatomical corruption/putrescence. I, too, and perhaps sooner than I am wont, will find myself in a selfsame plight of decompose. Having been party some years past to the discovery of a body in the early throes of rigger mortis, I find all block and tackle of rebus a mnemonic nightmare. Screen memories, whether Lacanian or post-Freudian, make me ill at ease, sickly and peripatetic with loathsomeness. Concomitant to that, or those, is my own encroaching deafness, which has adumbrated my ability to hear the most blaring sonic swell. Con concomitant to that, those and these, is the sorry state of my seeing-sight, which has begun to cross in at the bridge of my beakcove. So if I take it upon myself to do a little poking and goodhearted tomfoolery, please understand that I, too, suffer from a pre-mortis de rigger, albeit one less crumbly and limed. (And the corruption of the Italic-es)
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