They mystery can be accepted or rejected, but with a sublime and (hence the most gentle) irony the mystery still abides. Without an appreciation for this, Kafka can fail to please. But this is easily remedied if Kafka or the Coen Brothers or a friend or good luck manages to inspire one with the possibility that instruction has a sweetness.

Did Longinus ever suggested that pleasure might not always consist in – – my mind empties. Aristotle certainly has his objections to pleasure, but if i’m right Socrates would help me with my blankness and find a word suitable for the science of knowing and sharing of transitive value of representation or art.

Someone must have captured the sweetness of this. I vaguely recall Umberto Eco’s Name of the Rose came near.

“Abide with Me” Thelonius Monk comes to my mind. For years I haven’t even botheres to look up the words to this tune. The title and the tune suffice. The harmonies are a palpable two-way street. It is a request and a prayer. A promise and a possibility. It is, above all, very intimate.

i am too tired to invoke anythings else and must retire.

Best, mason