The Egg Lynching, Tripping Toreador; or, No Average Bureaucrat made all the Clocks Melt



I suppose it might seem strange to begin a post
that's sure to be indiscriminate
-- discombobulated,
eccentric,
purposeful but likely meaningless,
though armed with genuine genuflective ambition as its intention
for posting about Salvador Dali 
-- by beginning with....  Steve Erickson? ...

(Who?)

But the solution (so obvious! -- how was I blind to it for so long?)
to interpreting Steve Erickson's fragmented, inner-and-interconnected only obliquely,
often mystifying yet always mesmerizing novels,
his Vintage editions that nearly no one reads, I mean;
those Runes of his like Rubicon Beach I've ruminated on for years like recurring dreams
-- are explained explicitly (maybe even the mystery of Our Ecstatic Days)
in the paintings of Salvador Dali!

Enchanted Beach with Three Fluid Graces 

See?

"Um, no".

Okay.  Remember in Greek mythology, the three Graces?  Beauty, charm (what was that last one -- voluptuous d├ęcolletage?)  No.  It was joy, that's right.  So its beauty, charm and joy. And then there's the Three Fates Greek mythology, right? Take a look at the rod and string in the painting, such a slim thread of interconnection.  Hmmm.  And Rubicon Beach is divided into three parts, its few readers may remember.  Each section is practically its own self-contained novella, but for those oblique inner-connections, a string, each one focused on a certain grace, a certain fate.  See where this is leading ....

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