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[personal profile] timpeltje
I will print him. Now. If I have him on paper, I will have something to hold. Something to read which doesn’t hurt my eyes. Something to read again between Jonathan Swift and Daniel Defoe. Something that won’t just disappear when I wake up.
Concentration is difficult. I amaze myself I am not tired, on the contrary: I am rejuvenated. Simple as that. The university library is no longer a place to study. Wide awake and dreaming.

I want to be talked to.

There is a piece in my dissertation which deals with the representation of the male physique in male homoerotic poetry in Western civilisation. Three “types” exist: the youthful Narcissus-type who embodies a youthful perfection with an incapability of honest love, the grown-up Apollo-type who excels in maturity and who is capable to unconditionally surrender to love (he goes out from equality between those he loves) and the Heracles-type, an older lover great in wisdom and admired for that (he prefers unreachable Narcissus-types). I no longer know which type I am, Narcissus or Apollo… good!

Australia is a faraway land with lots of faraway animals and abstract sensations.


Thomas Hobbes’ “Leviathan” and Jonathan Swift’s “A True-Born Englishman” are waiting my analysis. Mustn’t keep them waiting.