Monday, February 22, 2010

Running up that hill

So lately I have been trying to study up on Latin, as I have felt, in the midst of this my wilderness, starving artist years, that I needed to do something to keep up my image as a scholarly, didactic fellow.  To these ends, I have been reading aloud from Caesar's the Gallic War, in Latin, and revisiting my Wheelock.  I have found, however, that, after my time spent with Caesar, much of my knowledge of Latin is returning, albeit half-formed, and I don't have any great desire to slog through the lesson plans all over again.  Yes, I could learn the vocabulary, but learning the vocabulary is what I am least interested in at the moment, if only because the English translation of anything I will be reading for the foreseeable future will be in the opposing page.  No, I just want to relearn the grammar, and do it without having to read all the text of the sections I have already read.

So today, I read allowed each of the first three declensions, in each gender, over fourteen times each.  I figure, if I can slowly commit the entirety of the declensions to memory, that will make the going much easier.  Besides, as the writing has progressed further, I have found greater and greater enjoyment in acts of seemingly frivolous repetition, or trial and error, like whistling.  It thinks its just the opportunity to engage my brain in activities that have no greater meaning, of any sort.  It's relaxing, in a strange way. 

the Wake

I woke up this morning with the first sentence of Finnegans Wake running  over and over again through my head. 

It was part of some understanding I was having about the rhythm of sentences, and how important it is, and necessary for good writing.  It made me want to rewrite everything that I had ever written, but then I realized that wasn't really necessary.  My best writing already tends to have a sense of rhythm.

I think.