Leapdragon 2016 - Aron Hsiao Was Here

The books.  §

© Aron Hsiao / 2009

The books are piling up again. The arrive electronically and they arrive by mail and yet it has been weeks since I managed to read one. I tell myself to make time, but as has always been the case, my reading self has its own mind, and arrives to read on its own timetable.

Even the old books call to me, the books from my years as a Ph.D. candidate, and before that, as an M.A. student. I can’t bear to read them yet. They make me angry. They bring out feelings that will only serve to make my life more complex right now. I can’t face them because I am not prepared (I don’t mean this emotionally, but realistically and judiciously) for what they might tempt me to do and say.

So the books ae waiting. I hope they don’t have to wait to long.

Some of us humans cast our feelings about us in wild frenzy. Others let them boil under the surface for years and years. We buy books and store them up between the shelved pages, containment modules for rage and revenge with indefinite shelf lives, imagining that perhaps they will outlast us. Someone someday in the future will open their covers and the Pandora’s Boxes into which they have been made.

— § —

The snow is melting, but it’s a false thaw, the usual January thaw in which every sensory imprint of springtime is reinscribed before we plunge back into the frozen depths. I’m not fooled. I’ve done this before.

It does, however, make me wistful.

— § —

What it’s time for is a reading of the classics of literature. Proust. Dostoyevsky. Conrad. Melville. All of those works that have been proclaimed obsolete by nearly every one of the very serious people who lack all seriousness.

Perhaps it was a conceit to hope that a few of us could find a place in the academy and do something to save it from itself.

Certainly some of us have proven adept at self-sabotage by the very same cultural methods that the academy currently employs to haunt itself.

— § —


New tires. Grocery shopping. Water heater repair. Provo. It’s all the same, right? It’s all real life, I’ve been told.

This is sounding like a blog post from 2005. Funny thing, not much has changed, ultimately, since then. GIGO, etc.

GIGO and plebes and SJWs, holy trinitaria.