Thursday, May 31, 2012

Termites Make Artwork Out Of Bertrand Russell First Edition

Fucking Termites have eaten my first-ish edition of my favourite writer and philosopher's book Portraits From Memory And other Essays by Bertrand Russell.

Descriptions of House Invasions are one of the times when extreme profanities of the F-word and  C-word, should be used. Robberies, Kidnappings, Peeping Tomisms, Spouse Beatings, Termite Sightings, Crap through Letterboxes, Police Door Smashings and Unwanted Guests of friends and families are all justifiable occasions. Especially when they destroy or harm everything and everyone close to you.

We just got back from a month and a lifetime away in various Latin American countries and termites have invaded and grazed a number of books including this by that great man and pacifist and socialist and thinker and conscientious objector and philosopher. This book was given to me by my dad and it was given to him by Bertrand Russell himself.

This man ought to be read. His ideas were far ahead of his time and should be taken up by all right minded and right wing politicians. But they never will because Bertrand Russell pleads for the rights of the common man and woman and for the end of aggression and war. And as a philosopher he argues his case in clear words that would leave those lacking social conscience lost for words.

 R.L Barrett, a good and great man himself, and my Dad (really my step-dad who kind of raised me) was given this book in 1957 and it was given to me years later when he passed. His signature and date luckily untouched by those little fuckers.

Signatures and dates that people in those days wrote on the fly covers of books they read because they appreciated and loved this rectangle of pulped wood that had woods printed on it. Something they could hold in their lap and feel and flip pages wherever they were from steaming jungles to steaming cities. They could write comments on those pages  and underline words and sentences that meant something to them. Future generations could handle the same book and feel the presence of the original owners now probably long gone and six feet under.

 more destruction after the jump

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