Remora

Limited Inc is a vain guy. When we walk pass shop windows, we always shoot glances at our pale accompanying reflection. We relish our wittier sallies, and we are completely depressed when the smallest typographic blot spoils our copy. Our vanity is pervasive, perverse, and even (all too often) takes the place of a conscience. Yes, sometimes, sometimes we try to generate a conscience, and then we wonder if anyone has noticed.

This, then, is the warning on the label: narcissism ahead. Because here it is: we are going to recommend a site that sometimes, when we are good, recommends us: the Enigmatic Mermaid. This site is written by an extraordinarily literate spirit. By literate, we don't mean she knows how to reference the sacred names. We mean she realizes that writing is an extension of passion, an embodiment of desire that is certainly as intense as a personal relationship because it has exactly the same characteristics of positioning yourself vis a vis a lover, a friend, an enemy, a child. The reader, the writer, the book -- how can this not be about loss, surrender, and the very stuff of the day as it is poured into your nerves every second, and as your raddled nerves forget it? When Nietzsche wrote, in that wonderful last letter to Buckhardt, I am all the names of history, he was right. Poor sod, he was right. He became, in that instant, the God of literature.

"Was unangenehm ist und meiner Bescheidenheit zusetzt, ist, dass im Grund jeder Name in der Geschichte ich bin..."

It's a harsh godhood, admittedly. Nietzsche went mad, Rimbaud went awol, and we aren't doing too well ourselves.

Anyway, the Enigmatic M. performs the same tricks for you that LI does: she throws together a bit of lecon des choses, a bit of life, and a bit of literature, all for you, anonymous reader.