Notes From the Editor's Desk -- 8/3/20 & 8/6/20

8/3/20

Waves down at the beach were immense today. It meant that I could not swim. The steep descent made me think of Whitman’s measure space. On our second visit to the beach this summer, Q—- and I descended that road in the dark, while others ascended near the hour of close, their steps laborious, and ours automatic. My environs contain substance in excess of what I require. But a bucket do we carry in the face of unmitigated nature. Whereas the day moved toward a resolution of the strife in meeting fronts, beneath it, as we turned back and walked toward the car, Q—- mentioned the tyranny of schooling. This made me consider how literary characters are constituted and how the result is meaning. As I write, I admit distraction, but I cannot record it. The best and most earnest capacity of perception causes us grief. Another train can be heard arriving in the station, and that, too, is part of the scheme.

8/6/20

Olivier leaped from the floor to the table in one swift spring. Knowing he was on the verge of doing so, I sipped at port and studied. Suddenly, the whole transpired, and there the cat was before me, comprehensible again. This is how plays should be. The discourse of the play should recede into the event horizon of a truly staggering happening and materialize again as though new.