You wanna talk about dead people? It’s all we do here at Ombion, when we’re not busily involved in our regular omphalos gazing (bing!). Wondering about dead people, gone people, I too have written my fair share of dead person posts, mixing Beckett and family (in small doses, otherwise you wake up the next day with a migraine in your second to last toe on your left foot), the shock of JD alone brought out entire essays of mourning, elegies, dedications (“ήταν ήδη νεκρός” and I quote from an external source said at 3ος to the person jumping up and down in despair); the Big Mac phenomena, dear God, is just one obit after another, endangering our omphalos; the godfather of soul (JB, JD, JC[?]); shedding a tear for the poor man that “film and postmodernism” courses don’t stop talking about in the least of meaningful ways, yet we barely attempted to wax lyrical on Sontag and Ricouer. Or did I miss an episode?
Mourning, longing, aching.
“the words of a dead man
are modified in the guts of the living”
- W.H. Auden
Ombion. The blog of guts. Faintly reminiscent of something to do with shit and turds (re antrea, eklases mas pale?) Greedy guts in fact. Still waiting on Pinter, Cavell, Kristeva, Ranciere,
Pass the toothpicks please? I think I’ve got a bit of jug jug stuck between my teeth.