Still on Nostromo and In Stahlgewittern. William, one of my brighter flunkies though utterly and thoroughly ungebildet, is currently reading the french translation of this first work of Juenger Orages d'acier, which I offered him a few weeks ago. I am moved to note the consciousness of a transition in my thinking: I find myself giving up again discursive, philosophical thought, or rather through these I put in the way of being now aware how very little they stand up to feeling, sentiment, how tiresome, wearing and false a gedanke can become, how restaurative, empowering when one is innerly moved by something, if only by the feeling of one's self: selbstgefuehl.

Reading Winesburg, Ohio. I'm taking a short break from German having interrupted Im Stahlgewittern aroud midpoint early this week. Again as though it were held compressed, a fantastic release of cognitive energy making fully manifest that perceived balance between the objective and the subjective to which Goethe made the intriguing reference reported in the Gespraeche. Coming to light the process of divestement of the english language to the point were it is incapable of handling reality, and then as always felt anew the realisation that it creates and handles its own reality, what it sets apart, not as its own, but as the only one possible for it.

Die unmoeglichkeit sein eigenes geistesleben zu gestalten, was heisst hier schon gestalten? jeder beliebigen geistigen einheit als man sie trifft ein klares Ja oder Nein sagen, falls Nein sie unberuehrt (inermis) vorbeikommen? Man sei sowieso wohl ausgeliefert, was man aber daraus wird sei nicht vorauzumachen. man wird gestaltet.

Bei manchem menschen, so gar bei den meisten, wird sich beim romanlesen das selbstbewusstsein nicht sehr weit entwickelt: man bleibt laushend. Man muss sich seinen bewusstseinsgrad genau aussuchen, das heisst was sich man zutrauen kann um moegliecherweise aus seiner kleinen unzufriedenheit mit sich selbst heraus und vielleicht in eine noch groessere hineinzukommen.

Der beseelte Kosmos: der kosmos schlecthin? in der ersteren auffassung wird der widerstand der dinge dem menschlichen willen gegenueber vorausgesetz. sich am leben zu gewoehnen heisst mehr oder weniger diesen widerstand genau messen oder ahnen zu lernen um unsere kraefte wirksam aufzuwenden. probleme zeigen sich darin dass oft das seelische ueberbearbeitet wird, man setzte zu viel voraus um gluecklich wirken zu koennen. Somit wird man durch seine eigene kraft ueberrumpelt.

It may be that something very essential was resolved for me that fateful day years ago when, attending to my first competent interpretation of a german literary text, I was swept by the unforgetable effect of the so-called association of sensibility, whereby concepts merge with emotion, are apprehended emotionaly, poetically almost. In a way I got a hold of some cognitive skeleton key, something with which, further cultivated, I could make sense of the world, handle things effectively, die dinge zurechtmachen...

A large part of my current set of frustrations is most certainly my desire to to find overemphasized the role played by european aesthetics in american novels and stories, and so bring to the experience of reading such works a sense of universally shared preoccupations where these are leider! mostly eurocentric ones. I find myself both dazzled and bored by The Adventures of Augie March, the boredom created by the wearying insistance on the primacy of narrative, while the bedazzlement is indefatigably wrung out of this by the uncanniness of the genial bellovian style.

Trueber regnerischer tag. Der selbstmord von D.F.W. beschaeftigt mich, aber nicht uebermaessig. Wozu? das ueberbieten von spitzfindigkeiten wurde ihm auf die dauer langweilig. Wahrscheinlich. Vielleicht hatte er sich endlich durchschaut und ueber das erste erschrecken nicht hinwegsetzen koennen...dies mit kaltem zynismus tropfend (in lieu of tears) gesagt.

The coffee pot is at my elbow while I read long sections of Der Vefuehrer out loud. I must admit to feeling very connected with this novel. almost sensually so. Nowadays despite much effort I can't seem to establish not to say the same feelings with english of french writing, but really no feeling at all...it leaves cold, unberuehrt. Es waere bloed wieder darauf naeher einzugehen.