The Home of Obscure European Literature (April Update)

Since 2008 I have been using this site to ponder, prevaricate and put forward profound ideas relating to the sphere of obscure european literature. During this time I have discussed such major literary figures as Pyetr Turgidovsky, Alexis Pathenikolides, Oa Aayorta, Edmund ‘Blumin’ Ek and the late great Johannes Speyer. I have also written on a range of lesser topics, such as the hallucinatory power of pineapple juice and conversations shared at North London’s infamous cultural haunt The Crippled Bee. All in all, it has been a fascinating few years.

Alas, as regular readers will have noticed, I have been posting less and less often in recent times. As I have hitherto explained, this is not down to any lack of deep thoughts bubbling up within my oversized brain. It is merely a matter of other distractions; other projects; other priorities. When the lush fruits of these alternative enterprises begin to drop from the trees, rest assured you will be informed – either on this blog, or on my sister-site: Underneath the Bunker. In the meantime, I encourage you to revisit what has already been written. It is, after all, only in the re-reading that we begin to understand the true meaning of a man’s thoughts. Go forth, therefore, and re-read!

May the treacle of culture drip upon all your eager faces.

Georgy Riecke [April 2012]


4 thoughts on “The Home of Obscure European Literature (April Update)

  1. To be read is an intellectual catastrophe – it is to be falsely understood. It is, for the man of honest mind and soul, to be made dwell in the caverns of harmonious disgrace and intercontextual infamy. Only the economically bounteous likes of Artin Mamis are at ease in such realms.
    To be unread is merely a misfortune – and even that may be a misreading of that sublime and arcadian state.

  2. Your words (which I am afraid I read, but not I hope misunderstood) are, as ever, overbrimming with wisdom. Having said that, even the best of us sometimes yearn for those caverns of harmonious disgrace and intercontextual infamy. The deep dark sea of neglect is not all that it’s cracked up to be.

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