It's been a long time

1) Since I've posted.
2) Since a book has made me cry.

Thank you, James Joyce, for writing Araby. God, what a beautiful story.(I'm guessing, as I haven't read all of Dubliners) It's a story told by a 32-year-old man about his 12-year-old self, but he doesn't tell it in a dismissive way that's like "bah, I was young and foolish." NO. Instead, every word, every sentence is so...deliberate, so well thought out, it just BEGS for a structuralist response. It reads like poetry. Or a song...

Sometimes, when I read a story, I still think of Mrs. Schultz's Catcher in the Rye assignment--make a five-song soundtrack to the book. This story would get Black Balloon by the Goo Goo dolls, among other things, like Crash by Dave Matthews Band. Observe.

You've got your ball,
you've got your chain,
Tied to me tight, tie me up again.
Who's got their claws
in you my friend?
Into your heart I'll beat again.
Sweet like candy to my soul,
Sweet you rock,
and sweet you roll.
Lost for you, I'm so lost for you...

When she came out on the doorstep my heart leaped. I ran to the hall, seized my books and followed her. I kept her brown figure always in my eye and, when we came near the point at which our ways diverged, I quickened my pace and passed her. This happened morning after morning. I had never spoken to her, except for a few casual words, and yet her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood.

You come crash into me.
And I come into you,
I come into you.
In a boys dream,
In a boys dream...

Touch your lips just so I know.
In your eyes, love, it glows so
I'm bare-boned and crazy for you.
When you come crash
into me, baby,
And I come into you
In a boys dream,
In a boys dream...

Her name sprang to my lips at moments in strange prayers and praises which I myself did not understand. My eyes were often full of tears (I could not tell why) and at times a flood from my heart seemed to pour itself out into my bosom. I thought little of the future.

If I've gone overboard,
Then I'm begging you
to forgive me
In my haste,
When I'm holding you so, girl,
close to me..

I did not know whether I would ever speak to her or not or, if I spoke to her, how I could tell her of my confused adoration.

Oh and you come crash
into me, baby
And I come into you.
Hike up your skirt a little more,
and show the world to me.
Hike up your skirt a little more,
and show your world to me.
In a boys dream, In a boys dream...

Some distant lamp or lighted window gleamed below me. I was thankful that I could see so little. All my senses seemed to desire to veil themselves and, feeling that I was about to slip from them, I pressed the palms of my hands together until they trembled...I was alone at the railings. She held one of the spikes, bowing her head towards me. The light from the lamp opposite our door caught the white curve of her neck, lit up her hair that rested there and, falling, lit up the hand upon the railing. It fell over one side of her dress and caught the white border of a petticoat, just visible as she stood at ease.

Oh I watch you there,
through the window,
And I stare at you.
You wear nothing, but you
wear it so well,
Tied up and twisted,
the way I'd like to be
For you, for me, come crash
into me...

Every morning I lay on the floor in the front parlour watching her door. The blind was pulled down to within an inch of the sash so that I could not be seen. When she came out on the doorstep my heart leaped.

SEE? It's perfect, and poetic, and beautiful, and I could totally identify with it. Especially, at the end, he has this moment--

"I lingered before her stall, though I knew my stay was useless, to make my interest in her wares seem the more real. Then I turned away slowly and walked down the middle of the bazaar. I allowed the two pennies to fall against the sixpence in my pocket. I heard a voice call from one end of the gallery that the light was out. The upper part of the hall was now completely dark.

Gazing up into the darkness I saw myself as a creature driven and derided by vanity; and my eyes burned with anguish and anger."

That raw despair it conveyed was fantastic. And it's such a real moment. Everyone's had one of those--surrounded by normalcy, you alone are filled with sadness, regret, anger, for a reason barely related to the present setting. Or, I'm crazy and overly sentimental. You be the judge.