For fun, I read Metafilter, which leads me to Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius, which I, on a whim, head to Wikipedia to look up. I continue from there to read about Borges himself, who I had read somewhat in my Spanish Literature classes in high school. I find him and a few others, such as Garcia-Marquez, fascinating, and love magic realism (thanks in no small part to the adoration I held for my Spanish teacher). I follow a variety of the links on the Wiki, exploring the fictional locale of Uqbar (and going from there to Anatolia) and revisiting my beloved Immanuel Kant. I awoke for very little reason at twenty minutes to six ante meridiem and continued reading Tlön, which I had fallen asleep reading last night (owing to exhaustion, not boredom), and now it is half past seven as I write these very words.
Again, my desire to write is fired. My mind enjoys grappling with the imaginary, whether they be worlds, books, or truths. Count among my favorites Burgess' invented "Nadsat" slanguage in A Clockwork Orange and The King in Yellow, which I discovered after a night's long binge on the Blue Öyster Cult FAQ. And I'm reminded of the lines from Toad the Wet Sprocket:
"In time, I will collect the world"
Given time and the internet, I might just.
I desire to revisit Spanish and reclaim my knowledge of the language. I would love to re-read 100 Years of Solitude in Spanish and further explore the catalogue of Borges. In time. Though I wonder if like the protagonist of the classic Twilight Zone episode, I might have all the time in the world but run short on resources, or more likely like Borges, I might be granted the resources but run short on time. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Let us not go gently to the endless winter night.
