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Vertical Prose


April 23rd, 2006

23.4. Sunday. Leaving Venice. @ 11:23 pm



it worked out pretty well
though jeff woke me only a half hour before we were supposed to leave
and i had mostly packed
but just can't get going that quickly..

he left me half an omelet
and was finished with the bathroom before i was even all together

i told him to leave before me
don't wait:
i'll see him at the bus
don't worry

and throwing my stuff together
saying good bye to the apartment

i was sad to be leaving
but off we go..

i got to the 82 boat dock
and i knew my ticket had expired since yesterday
but only by 20 minutes or so
still
the woman would not let me on..


i stood in line to buy another ticket
but it was a long line
and i had another idea:
i walked down to the 1
which was less controlled
no problem

i rode around the slow way

and still
got to where jeff was standing five minutes before they were letting anyone onto the bus

we got there
checked in
on the big Anek boat
all pretty easy
but our room was a dissapointment
it was small
and the window was tiny..
we'd gone through all this to get an outside cabin
and this window was hardly bigger than a porthole...
oh well...
i was sleep deprived and bleary
so we had an hour before the boat was even scheduled to leave the dock
i got under the covers to nap

of course i didn't sleep

but lay there for about 45 minutes or so

then i figured i'd go find jeff and see Venice off..

Jeff was concerned about our room
so we convince them to move us into a room with two beds instead of one big one
coz the one big one was really only big enough for One Big One (jeff)
no problem
jeff gave him a 5 or 10 € bill to re make the bed
and our new room had a much nicer window
i was certainly happier

then we went back on deck
just in time for the boat to start moving.

it was beautiful
leaving
it took an hour of moving before we were away from the lido
have to move slow in those waters..
going past the canals' openings
so many beautiful views of the city

gorgeous..

i took lots of pictures...

lots of nice truckers on this boat too
but the boat was not as nice as the one i took with Leo
not at all

though they did have WiFi
it didn't work
we heard from different people different things
but we chose to believe that they'd turn it on after 6


went down to rest a bit

jeff had lunch
i had nap

not really restful
but OK

and when i was awake again
i had a gyros and campari with soda
with jeff
as the sun was setting

then jeff went into nap
and i sat on the internet for an hour

it was all very vague

i came into the room when my time expired
but jeff was watching TV
so went back out to write emails and journal a bit

when i went back to the room
jeff was in his sleep chamber again
i gave him a hug
and lay down to sleep myself...

but it didn't work.

i rolled around

i listened to music

i watched porn and jacked off
it didn't work

i went walking around the ship
looking for truckers
nothing happened
just drunk dancing greeks
which was nice to watch

back in the room
tried to sleep
tried
but couldn't.

i jacked off again
and feel into a very dissatisfying slumber


and with that
i will leave you the end of Death in Venice
(yeah, i didn't finish it in the city, i brought it with me on the boat... but finished it here...
and it's apparent to me that the four chapters preceding the last were all meant to support this one
because this is the only chapter that has meat, heart and soul...)
in a delirious mumble to himself he says this:

p.363-364
"For Beauty, Phaidros -- mark my words! -- Beauty alone is divine and visible at once, and so it is the path of the senses, youth Phaidros, the artist's path to the spirit. But do you actually believe, my friend, that he can ever find wisdom and true manhood if he takes the path of the senses to reach the spiritual? Or do you instead assume ( I leave the decision up to you ) that this is a path of perilous charm, truly a path of sin, a path that is bound to lead you astray? For you must know that we poets cannot take the path of Beauty unless Eros joins us and sets himself up as our guide; indeed, though we may be heroes after our fashion and virtuous warriors, we are nevertheless like women, for passion is our exaltation, and our longing must remain love -- that is our bliss and our shame.
"Do you now see that we poets cannot be wise or dignified? That we are bound to go astray, bound to remain wanton adventurers of the emotions? Our masterful style is falsehood and folly, our renown and prestige are a farce, the public faith in us is utterly ludicrous, and educating the populace, the younger generation, through art is a hazardous enterprise that should be outlawed. For how can a man be a fit educator if he has an inborn, natural, and incorrigible preference for the abyss? We can certainly shun it and gain our status, but no matter where we turn, we are still drawn to the abyss. And so we renounce knowledge, which disintegrates things, for knowledge, Phaidros, has no dignity or severity; knowledge is all-knowing, understanding, forgiving, devoid of composure, of form; it sympathizes with the abyss, it is the abyss. And so we firmly reject knowledge, and henceforth our sole concern is Beauty -- that is, simplicity, grandeur, and new severity, a new innocence and form. But form and innocence, Phaidros, lead to euphoria and desire, may lead the noble person to a horrid emotional blasphemy, which his own beautiful severity will reject as disgraceful -- and they lead to the abyss, they, too, lead to the abyss. They lead us poets there, I tell you, for we cannot soar, we can only be wanton. And now I shall leave, Phaidros, and you shall remain, and do not leave until you can no longer see me."
 
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