Imagination is Eternity?


I have presented many of Thomas Sarebbononnato’s opinions through several blogs, the posts posted, the pages published in the Pages sections I maintain as one or another review I edit, have edited . . . there will be new ones that I will also edit, maintain, run . . .  as I have those I have referred to obliquely herein for how many years now? I am not genuinely asking because I do have a good idea for how long, and I could easily check . . . the first being nearly a dozen years old; the others are at lest several or more years old, nearer a decade than to five or three . . . what then must I say about what gets published herein . . . all the world is a thing made, one or another and another and another kind of fiction, yes, essays, short stories, short-short pieces in prose, maybe what we used to call vignettes, this something other than flash fiction, what means prose poem, how they, these latter two mentioned here come together, collide, converge, merge, run parallel, have features now the same, sometimes coming across identically . . . I, myself, have written a lot of poetry, thus the form, prose poem, has been endeavored . . . lyric poetry being a bit monologic . . . I have also written monologues, dialogues, short plays for off-off Broadway theater . . . what then does this have to say about theater . . . there are these things we used to call closet dramas . . . is that really a can of worms? I am not going to get into how much Ioved Beckett and Ionesco when I was in my twenties, or how long ago that is, was, will have been in some future time I can conceive of coming to pass . . .

Narrative, expository, dialogic, dialectic . . . I have written tons of fictional essays, polemical fiction, fictional diatribes, tirades in the guise of fiction, who I am, exposing myself in what I write? I am not really asking.

Everything written herein, therein, wherever it has been posted, uploaded, published, under whatever guise, has always been one or another persona piece, myself always being more intelligent than any voice voicing itself in whatever context it finds itself voiced. I am God to everything that happens on the page . . . but what would it mean for creation if the mind of God had an unconscious, if there were an Ego, Super-Ego and Id for God?

When I say as I have said in FICTION ONE, The Life and Opinions of Thomas Sarebbononnato . . . I mean it, but I also have set up a context within which Thomas publishes fiction . . . all the prose pieces are just that, prose, whether that be prose fiction or prose non-fiction from Thomas’s place, prose fiction or non-fiction then being either narrative, expository, lyric, dramatic, that is, dialogic . . . how then do I examine herein Thomas’s dialectic interludes, conveyances, excursions . . . what then am I saying and what then must I say about how anything gets said . . . to say or not to say about this Dialectic of Selfhood, if I may borrow from Professor Ridder on Montaigne, a good example for what happens for Thomas . . . how Thomas uses the essay as a form to convey his opinions, ideas . . . and I am pointing to the literary essay as put forward by Montaigne, yet, something of the philosophical vignette, as I like to call what Pascal was doing in his Thoughts, Les Pensees. Yet,let me say it again, Thomas also uses the essay in its fictional and non-fictional varieties. 

Following the pen is what Thomas does. I am merely an editor of his work. I will leave all generic wrangling to you, my fellow readers, thus my fellow hypocrites . . . yes, of course, there are many things that are simply a matter of course . . . no?



What is, is; what has been, has been; what will be, will be. He says:

What bothers me most about most Muslims I imagine is that it seems that far too many of them are where we were a thousand years ago, and that’s not hyperbole; at best, I imagine, they are somewhere where we were five hundred years ago, or where some 17th century progressive might have been, at least in my reflexes—but then I have to think about this and I can’t imagine most Muslims are anywhere as progressive as our 17th century predecessors were . . . and somewhere in the pit of my gut, somewhere around the labyrinth of my bowels, I cannot help but look at the horribly infantilized women in my neighborhood and conclude anything other than Islam, itself submission in a way no other religion requires submission, is endemically misogynist . . . and it hearkens back to my Roman forefathers who were committed in a matter/anti-matter struggle with Semitic civilizations . . . ; but then, my head sometimes tells me other things, what I think and say and maybe believe with reason and rationality—I should say Reason, with a capital ‘R,’ but we in America are so in love with, obsessed by, taken with our guiding epistemology: doubt, doubt and more doubt—no matter how medieval I find Islam today remaining—and it is medievalism in face of what we understand to be progressive (if possible) liberal democracy—what was I saying, where was I going with this? I heard a guy in a bar say that if Allah were God, then he was an atheist . . . and so is the current situation between Muslim and the West; is Yaweh, God the Father? Not in my understanding. Anyone who sees the same representation of God in the Jewish, the Christian or Muslims texts is mistaken or stupid.

I cannot imagine what it must be like to live in Saudi Arabia or Iran, but as far as I think, so long as the mass of Muslims do not condemn, do not seem outraged by, terrorism against the west; so long as Pakistani parents teach their children that it okay to call women sluts and whores for how they dress in the west here in Brooklyn not in accordance with fucked up Sharia Law; so long as most Muslims do not condemn the actions of their Omars—and if they did, would we not hear more of it, see more of it? So long as the mass of Muslims I imagine are here to make money they could not back home and not for freedom; so long as most average every day working living Muslims would prefer or do prefer Sharia Law to the Constitution; so long as Muslims get militant in their neighborhoods against Americans they do not agree with because Americans do not follow Sharia; so long as this is what is, we have a serious conflict in civilization, a serious conflict in metaphysics, a serious conflict that amounts to matter/anti-matter. Do not think that most Muslims did not say “Good” after Omar shot up the gay club; and do not imagine that suicidal Jihad does not equate in the minds of the perpetrators with martyrdom, which always cleanses the sinner of his sins . . . do not imagine that Omar did not imagine he would be cleansed of his sins by doing what he did, or that the nut in Nice did not imagine the same thing. It is more likely that some fanatic who has not lived as a devout Muslim will perpetrate something heinous in order to meet with his own logic of martyrdom than an actual rationally practicing Muslim will.

There will never be peace. Never. Which side are you on? Isn’t this true? You do not think so; what then do you imagine?

He says what he says in earnest. He asks what he asks in earnest. He believes what he believes about a clash in civilization being a clash in metaphysics, thus being a metaphysical matter/anti-matter annihilation. This he is able to imagine and articulate. This he disseminates through his blog.

What then is it that you imagine I must do, must say? Please give me a clue as to what it is you are convinced I should say. I do suggest you re-read it, carefully, more so than the initial superficial skimming allowed. All good reading is re-reading, I used to tell my freshman composition classes.

Yes, Thomas Sarebbononnato used to teach Freshman Composition.

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