Sontag y estética

"La realidad no es lo inequívoco. La vida no se parece tanto a la vida misma"

Las cosas no son burbujas, unas independientes de otras. Pero tampoco son una sola cosa así no más. Agarré un libro de Susan Sontag y me encontré con que había destacado eso. Lo había leído hace harto tiempo igual, mucho antes de que Seba empezara a tramitarme con todo este rollo del Lenguaje. Nice coincidence you know. Hace unas semanas salió una crítica del último libro de ella en el diario, que eran como puras colecciones de artículos en el diario no sé qué. No me he comprado libros y eso sería una buena opción, porque de Susan Sontag me gustaría tener todos los libros posibles. I like her and what she writes. Because she's not about telling you everything there's to say (due to the reason that you don't say everything about something). She hops from Godard to Cioran to Vietnam.

Above all, she's an example of how aesthetics can permeate your life. And if it does, as it is her case, she unveils all these possibilities. Her analysis is precisely that she's not giving you any keys to understanding a piece of theatre or a film, but rather she compels you (me) to just get into the thing, that aesthetics are more to be felt than to be thought around. Thought can work as some sort of way into the thing, but it's not the thing itself.

That thought, a certain kind of thought deals with life, that must deal with life or it isn't worth at all...

La foto de ella me gusta mucho (apart from the fact that it's on the edition I've got of Against Interpretation). It's midway between sadness and peace or something, like many pictures of people lying down.