“The untainted joy, perhaps because largely unnoticed, of communicating with myself and the few I make a practice of including in my exhibitionism.”

February 13, 2013 § Leave a comment

Dear ________,

No, perish the thought, at least momentarily, resurrections having been said to occur, you’re not being annoying at all. You ask me what brings me joy. And my response, I admit, potentially sounds very mournful and sad, but it’s not intended so: what brings me the most joy is a well-wrought & wrung sentence — sometimes just a phrase — & when I’m desperate, a misshaped but (in my estimation) appropriate word. There may be greater pleasures, but alchemizing a noun into a verb or vice versa rarely carries the same baggage from room to room these greater pleasures do. The untainted joy, perhaps because largely unnoticed, of communicating with myself and the few I make a practice of including in my exhibitionism. In spite of everything, a certain kind of theological thinking remains very fertile for such sentences, phrases & words — not least because there is in it, let me emphasize, not necessarily or exclusively its content, heaven & hell forbid, an in-born felicity — an incommensurate joy in a commensurate world bent, on many of its best days, on pleasure. Joy, I think, happens not at a remove from pleasure, or pain for that matter (after all, somebody, sometimes the screamer himself, more customarily the screamed-at, finds pleasure in all manner of pain), but rarely are they so similar as to be the same.

Yours,

B.

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