It was tough to sacrifice the spine initially, Mr. Ashdale, but now I am grateful and this just proves that books were made to be dismembered. Dismembered in order to be thoroughly remembered. Isn't that what we do anyways - some of us who Thinktoomuch - tear things apart - especially when we find our minds in the midst of greatness, beauty, the unique? We can't leave it alone, can't be consciousless, can we?
I'm not going to regurgitate Note 24 (You'll have to sever your own footnotes) except to say that a few of my favourite aspects were the "UNTITLED. UNFINISHED. UNRELEASED" films of James O. Incandenza (since this hits close to home with my own "career") and the various iterations of the production company that leaves us with the delicious Poor Yorick Entertainment Unlimited.
Thank you Mr. Ashdale again. I am very happy to have sacrificed The Spine of My Precious Carcass as well as the additional space in my increasingly carb stretched denim back pocket in order to get to a deeper level of genius.
No trouble, Vivant. I know Abbot was thinking the same thing. All that's left is to figure out a reason to saw the book horizontally.
ReplyDeleteNow that would really make a mess of things - or a puzzle. Half the pages would have numbers, the other half none. No. Not doing it. My anxiety level is high enough as it is. Remember - I have blood on my hands. My conscience haunts me.
ReplyDeleteYou might save the horizontal vivisection ("horisection"?) for a volume of poems, maybe. Especially short ones. Try William Carlos Williams--any poems written on the backs of doctors' prescription-pad slips probably isn't going to approach full vertical length in a normal-sized book. You're right--you won't have the page numbers, but in a book of poetry, who needs 'em?
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