[Juenger-list] EJ & Burroughs (no angry old men)

[e-ensign@thing.net (Richard Brem)]

> > Only thing can resolve conflict is love, like I felt for Fletch and
Ruski,
> > Spooner and Calico. Pure love.
> > What I feel for my cats present and past.
>
> I appreciate very much that Burroughs hang his heart so much to the world
of
> appearance, but I am sorry that in his love there is nothing
> "impersonal".Thankfulness is more apt to this impersonal dimension, it is
> like a threshold.

You don't have cats, do you? ;-)
Regards, RBR
------------------------------
Ernst Juenger "Siebzig verweht V":

Wilflingen, 8 September 1992

In the morning I buried Idris who died yesterday evening. He lived with us
for eleven years. Red-points are a noble breed. Idris was friendly. His
sister Aisha, with whom he produced children like a Pharaoh, wanted little
to do with us; she was timid. When she was near us she always stood so that
she had the door behind her, and when she made herself comfortable on our
lap she put her paw not under but on top of our arm. In that way she could
jump off at any moment. Her departure too had nobility; when it came to the
end she disappeared and died so alone that we could not find her even though
we searched through the house and the neighbourhood.
     Idris on the other hand grew daily more tender during his long
sickness. For months he grew thinner and thinner. The late hours when the
lady of the house sat reading by the tiled stove - that was his favourite
time. Step by step he withdrew from his appearance: he still took the sun in
the garden, but we had to lift him on to the bannisters on which he used to
sharpen his claws, and at the last onto our lap. There he could no longer
even purr, though he could still turn his head.
     I buried him under the hazel. He would go and lie there in the shade
when the sun became too warm for him. He received zinnias and a gravestone
from the Swabian Highlands. Monika Miller, who stood next to me, approved of
the display. I said:
                        'Idris will enter Heaven before us.'
                        'How come?'
                        'No detour via Original Sin.'

translated by John Whaley for The Curfew Press