I'm nearly a month behind, Nicie (the last couple weeks hiding out on Maine islands), but wanted nevertheless to say you really hit a sweet spot for me with this sad and lovely postcard from the threshold of Pessoa's world. It's a fine writer who finds the nexus where Joni, Pessoa's Disquiet, hard grief, and hard walking meet. There's an echo perhaps of Pessoa's own multiplicity, his heteronyms, as we work our way down streets of sorrow, alleys of small joys, and unending paths where our eyes are all we have left. (Listen to Dylan's Dirt Road Blues for a version of the latter.)Then again, maybe that's just travel.
Pessoa's voice was manifold, by design, but in recalling the voice in Disquiet (which now I think I have to read again) the glib phrase which just came to mind is 'shaman without a cause.' There's the great depth and great presence of his voice, and the written fragments like torn corners of dreams arriving in a disorder (despite the editors'/translators' efforts) which nonetheless feels like intangible order, but all in service of what exactly? Given my current writerly view of the world, I suppose I could call him a voice in the desert of Anthropocene purposelessness, perhaps, or a mournful shipping clerk unclear on why we're all rowing in the direction of the Great Acceleration, though that all sounds a bit too cute.
Anyway, this is all to say I loved this post. Thanks for all you're doing, and look after yourself as you walk through the grief. Be well.
I'm nearly a month behind, Nicie (the last couple weeks hiding out on Maine islands), but wanted nevertheless to say you really hit a sweet spot for me with this sad and lovely postcard from the threshold of Pessoa's world. It's a fine writer who finds the nexus where Joni, Pessoa's Disquiet, hard grief, and hard walking meet. There's an echo perhaps of Pessoa's own multiplicity, his heteronyms, as we work our way down streets of sorrow, alleys of small joys, and unending paths where our eyes are all we have left. (Listen to Dylan's Dirt Road Blues for a version of the latter.)Then again, maybe that's just travel.
Pessoa's voice was manifold, by design, but in recalling the voice in Disquiet (which now I think I have to read again) the glib phrase which just came to mind is 'shaman without a cause.' There's the great depth and great presence of his voice, and the written fragments like torn corners of dreams arriving in a disorder (despite the editors'/translators' efforts) which nonetheless feels like intangible order, but all in service of what exactly? Given my current writerly view of the world, I suppose I could call him a voice in the desert of Anthropocene purposelessness, perhaps, or a mournful shipping clerk unclear on why we're all rowing in the direction of the Great Acceleration, though that all sounds a bit too cute.
Anyway, this is all to say I loved this post. Thanks for all you're doing, and look after yourself as you walk through the grief. Be well.
Photos are exquisite.
Are you familiar with Pilot Imposter by James Hannaham, which is, in part, a response to Pessoa? It's SO interesting!