In my end is my beginning

So where am I again? Where am I now? This is emergent literature – correct? Ok, I just wanted to get my bearings, make sure my feet were firmly planted. You know, make sure everything’s squared away. This is it you know, it’ll all be over soon. The big bang, curtains, the last hurrah. Back to zero. What do we do? Where do we go from here? We do what we should have been doing from the beginning – enjoying ourselves! We read, we laugh, we love, we return … We read, we laugh, we love, we cry, we journey out, we return … But will we learn anything new upon this return? Or are thing always the same? Nothing new to see, No new road to follow or river to navigate. Strike out and claim a new place on the map, be original, or be the same. Retrace the maps we laid on the wilderness and discover it is all an illusion. What did I learn from this time spent here? Am I a deeper person? Doubt it. Don’t even know what that means. If it means I’m falling asleep over my keyboard then… Sorry lost control for a bit. Someone was behind the scenes pulling the strings… the puppet master…

About a year ago a close friend and I began what would become an on going debate about history and literature. He claims that history is more important and holds a greater significance because it actually happened – or something like that. In the beginning I vehemently disagreed with him. But over time I began to share his perspective. Now, allow me to explain. I was reading and excessive amount of history at that point in time and had not read a descent novel since… wow I can’t even remember – Bulgakov maybe? And that was a long time ago. Anyway I had forgotten the extraordinary power of good literature. After this class I can safely say I have returned to my former side of the argument and will defend my post valiantly. And whom can I thank for this return? Why none other than the alchemist himself – Dr. Sexson with his bag of magic (Eternal Return, 20 Minute Life time, Dolce Domum, Life as fiction and language, and the world of myth and dream). It took recognizing these literary myths for me to fully appreciate innately complex books. I have always read a majority of “high brow” literature, but I’m afraid that I didn’t properly absorb its significance. I enjoyed it for the difficult vocabulary and adult themes but that was all. It would appear that now I have to go back and reread some of my favorite books to reexamine them in hope of unlocking their deeper meaning. But it’s not just the “high brow” I need to examine. I have a new way of appreciating the so-called “low brow” material. Now I highly doubt I will work through Paulo Coelho catalogue of works over the summer, but I will no doubt pay more attention to artistic material that I previously dismissed as vapid.

So that’s it I guess. I feel like I should have more to say or some witty torque of words that would encompass all the deeper meanings of this course. But I guess this is just the ultra low brow coming out of me. Maybe I’ll just end how I began. So I’m writing a paragraph modeled after, imitating, burlesquing this over-articulate incessantly repetitive Water Genie. Seriously…