Another Literary Trail

Well well, a digression indeed, another literary trail.

     The Yellow Wallpaper, House of Leaves, Nietzsche, Derrida, Keats, Milton, Petrarch.
   
     The journey from The Yellow Wallpaper to House of Leaves crept through the shadows of my mind, and you might find a technical explanation of a creeping moonlit shadow in House of Leaves, or you might not; from there, a direct Nietzsche quote on page 332, and then, lost somewhere in Nietzsche’s online vicinity (not his actual presence, which is captivating and marvelous, but his online presence, which is like a desert speckled with buried portals to Hanging Gardens, [in deserts people die, delirious and dehydrated - a desert for example: ad heavy “quotes” sites intended to bash your impressionable brain into spending oblivion - or find oases and bask in orgiastic delight, if the Hanging Gardens ever did exist there was certainly an orgy there, with a combination of fig trees growing next to pools overflowing into deeper pools creating a mist in the cool breezy shade beneath waterfalls that overlook iridescent glimmering sun rays illuminating me eating figs and tanned probably Persian belly dancers - an oasis for example: reading a black and white pdf version of Beyond Good and Evil.]) found Derrida deconstructing everything; and like so many of my literary trails, it should end there, with me not quite understanding Derrida, examining a braid unspun, but fortunately Bradbury’s mirthful admonition struck! “Read Poetry every day of your life!” And so I did, snatching that small Romantic volume tucked away in my backpack and this time skipped Blake and landed on poor confused Keats, who referenced Milton and Petrarch, who kept me satisfied there under his laureled greenery for several hours.