 | | 2013-11-25 21:31
From blog My Kingdom for a Hat
the living artifact
On Saturday night, during the season’s first real snow and attendant howling winds, Josh and I stayed in and played a ferocious game of Scrabble. On Sunday, as we drove home listening to Carmina Burana after hitting an antique store and wandering the Shelburne Museum , I came to the realization that my mental age is about seventy-five. Yes, I also go to goth clubs and aspire to ink every inch of my skin, but I really do revel in the antiquated. Old things have a magic embedded in them that the novel just can’t touch. Like Jung’s collective unconscious, manifest in cloth and grain. Do you ever look at a fin-de-siecle chair and think how many...
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