Dec 24, 2020
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RIP William Whitehead | MT of "Words To Live By" by William Whitehead (2012) Cormorant Books
RIP William Whitehead | MT of “Words To Live By” by William Whitehead (2012) Cormorant Books
I have been thinking recently that there is something missing in a lot of our cultural products these days. While there is passion and drive in a lot of what we read and view, there seems to be a level of dedication to craft something for people to ponder and reflect over. This thought really became apparent to me when I learned of the passing of William Whitehead. “Bill” had been a small…
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i just fucking hate that no matter how much fucking time passes I still miss some total douche bag that probably never cared about me in the first place. and i think about it so much that it feels like i imagined the whole thing up and that he never even fucking existed. like how could someone that i was that fucking close with who i loved and needed so much just fucking dip out and be so unapologetic about it. and i know full well that it’s a horrible idea for him to ever come back into my life, and my rational brain is like good ok like he won’t be back because he’d fuck up everything good i have going right now but fuuuuuuccccckkkkkkkk meeeeeeeee i still fucking miss him. and the worst part is that i felt this huge fucking connection with him and i was just so fucking in love with him and i miss him so much but he can just go every single day not thinking about me, not giving a single shit that he hurt me so bad and have a fucking girlfriend and everything be hunky fucking dory for him. i wish i could see him one last time so i could slap him and kick the living shit out of him. like seriously if i ever see that ass hole again, after fainting and having an anxiety attack, i will scream my fucking head off at him. and it’s like he probably thinks im just a crazy bitch! and maybe i fucking am. maybe this is me just being way too fucking overdramatic about some shit head who had a big dick. but fuck me, no matter how much i fuckin rationalize anything about the situation i STILL FUCKING MISS HIM.
i have a loving partner who i am 100% in love with in spite of feeling this way and extremely amazing friends who have been with me through this whole fuckin thing but why in the hell is it never fucking good enough. why is some low life shit head who’s an alcoholic, a recluse, not even really that cute or great, and will never reciprocate anything i feel about him stuck in my brain like a fucking disease??? god fucking dammit.
Finally, my everlasting thanks to William Whitehead for his steadfast sense of order, for his companionship and for his endless ability to keep our ship afloat."
Timothy Findley (Spadework, Acknowledgements)
And once we learned to read his messages, just as the grapevine had predicted, his words conquered space and time because they could be read no matter how many miles or days the unicorn had travelled since creating them. How, then, can anyone say that magic has faded from the world. How can you say it, with evidence to the contrary right before your eyes. Are my words not speaking to you now, though miles and years now lie between us? And if there is still such potent magic as that -who knows- there may still be a Unicorn in some wild forest yet to be imagined. A forest of sunflowers, perhaps. Or a field of moonflowers and starflowers gazing up towards their namesakes.
Timothy Findley-The Unicorn and the Grapevine
William Whitehead, talking about his book "Words to Live By"
Famous Last Words: Timothy Findley
T.F. Well : specifically — when I’m writing a scene in which there is more than one person — however many more there may be — I will find myself . . . let us say when George and Brenda are talking : having a terrible argument. . . . I find myself sitting there watching them : listening to them — trying not to interrupt them — fascinated . . . when, all at once, Alice drops her cigarette on the floor. But the focus of the scene — the point of the scene — is the argument between George and Brenda. Now — I don’t know how it is that I witnessed Alice dropping her cigarette on the floor. And I don’t know why I did. I only know I saw it fall and I saw when she let it go — so I make a record of it : ALICE DROPS HER CIGARETTE ON THE FLOOR. Does it matter? Is it an important gesture? Does it tell us anything? Was it a comment on the fact that George was right in the middle of telling Brenda about that thing he’s found in the drawer upstairs . . . ? I don’t know. All I know is — the gesture was there and I saw it and I put it down on the paper. But only time and more writing : only the continuation of the writing process is going to tell me whether Alice dropping her cigarette is meaningful. I mean — you know — it could turn out (LAUGHTER ) that Alice doesn’t even smoke, for God’s sake. So what’s she doing with this cigarette in the first place?
w.w. Could I ask you something?
T.F. Fire away.
w.w. Who the hell are George and Brenda and Alice?
T.F. I don’t know.
http://shepaintsred.wordpress.com/2012/01/04/famous-last-words-timothy-findley/?blogsub=confirming#subscribe-blog i'm in love with these two men
