The problem with Sammy Beckett.

March 10, 2009 at 6:24 pm | Posted in poetry, writing | 5 Comments
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Perhaps that he had nothing to say having read Camus who came after him. Not so much passionless in drab contrast to Joyce’s Dubliners as bored. Not so much bursting stars in a Hollywood nightscape  as the first trickling touch of the sea on my wriggling toes. I remember her  eyes but not much else, he said, picking up his snorkel and flexing his shoulders.


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  1. sir realismly inspired

  2. I like it when you make me chuckle, ha! That is most fabulous. Is there an extra space before ‘eyes’ or is it an optical illusion? It makes me think he thought about it.

  3. Hello from my tiny little corner of cyberspace, mr. squires. Just wanted to check in and say hello. I have been fixated on imaginary digital worlds of late, but I am taking some time to catch up on your blog.
    Interesting take on the relationship between Camus and Becket. Good food for thought…on the other hand, maybe we ought to buy a snorkel and some scuba gear.

  4. I love the summation of these classics… A creative spillage of words paul.

  5. I wonder if Sam would have thought he had a problem. Do you think that would have violated is existential boundaries?

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