Interestingly enough...

...at least to me, is that one of the people who was responsible for me deciding to write this post wound up finding that, and then linking to it on the list in question.

That she did so without apparently noticing the self-deprecating humor amuses me.

(And if you came back to read this, hi there! It's not often that I get somebody trawling my journal for things they can try to score points with somewhere else. You're silly.)

What Do You Love More Than Love?

It's not just the title of a song - it's something that bears thinking about. Ever since I first listened to Dar Williams sing that in 2000, I've wondered how I could answer. What did I love more than love? Everybody loves something more than love itself - something that causes that moment "When you feel your soul go beyond your skin/ When you know that's the way it's always been," but what did that for me?

Tonight, I think I finally managed to Get It.

I was attending a performance of Educating Rita (and if you haven't seen this, shame on you,) and at one point in the first act, while Rita is telling Frank about one of the things she's read, I almost wept. Because it hit me. What I love more than love is language.

It is, in its own way, a silly, stupid, trivial thing to love so much, but I love it full of razor blades. From Aeschylus to Zappa, Shakespeare to Stoppard, Neruda to Yeats, Ayckbourn to goddamned Geoffrey Chaucer . . . and even, occasionally, to me, when I write something that manages to creep its way past "readable" and into "good," I love language so much it scares me.

But enough utter emotional honesty from me - what do you love more than love? You don't have to answer here if you don't want to, or don't know what it is yet, but figure it out as best you can.

Since it seems to have been missed, so far...

Arthur Miller died yesterday.

We shall not see your like again, sir. Godspeed - attention was paid.