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Dec. 17th, 2014 12:15 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nathaliaI love these two quotes so much:
I had the strangest thoughts. I reasoned [...] I might find an individual who was by all measures Stagg Leigh and then I could kill him, perhaps bring him home first for a meal, but kill him after all. But there was no such person and yet there was and he was me. I had not only made him, but I had made him well enough that he created a work of so-called art. […] I had to defeat myself to save my self, my own identity. I had to toss a spear through the mouth of my own creation, silence him forever, press him down a dark hole and have the whole world admit that he never existed. (Erasure 259)
I knew they would kill me […] and I wondered if in fact they already had. As we stepped out of the makeshift morgue I thought that if that body in the chest was Not Sidney Poitier, then I was not Not Sidney Poitier and that by all I knew of logic and double negatives, I was therefore Sidney Poitier. I was Sidney Poitier. (I Am Not Sidney Poitier 212)
I really don't get why people don't universally love Percival Everett and I would love to read someone's take on why Erasure and I Am Not Sidney Poitier end pretty much the same way.
This post is brought to you by the fact that even as you write a paper that is a mess, sometimes you need to take a quick break and just appreciate literature for its beauty and genius.
Only nine pages or so to go.
I had the strangest thoughts. I reasoned [...] I might find an individual who was by all measures Stagg Leigh and then I could kill him, perhaps bring him home first for a meal, but kill him after all. But there was no such person and yet there was and he was me. I had not only made him, but I had made him well enough that he created a work of so-called art. […] I had to defeat myself to save my self, my own identity. I had to toss a spear through the mouth of my own creation, silence him forever, press him down a dark hole and have the whole world admit that he never existed. (Erasure 259)
I knew they would kill me […] and I wondered if in fact they already had. As we stepped out of the makeshift morgue I thought that if that body in the chest was Not Sidney Poitier, then I was not Not Sidney Poitier and that by all I knew of logic and double negatives, I was therefore Sidney Poitier. I was Sidney Poitier. (I Am Not Sidney Poitier 212)
I really don't get why people don't universally love Percival Everett and I would love to read someone's take on why Erasure and I Am Not Sidney Poitier end pretty much the same way.
This post is brought to you by the fact that even as you write a paper that is a mess, sometimes you need to take a quick break and just appreciate literature for its beauty and genius.
Only nine pages or so to go.
