One splendid sacrament [Chronicles of Dis/-Infection]

Bildschirmfoto 2015-03-14 um 09.03.01

Which cheerily goes against the notion of iron-nosed technocratic resolve being needed for two people to get married, this The Names quote does. They do, the happy couple, follow their most ancient genetic, romantic & idealistic impulse in „popping the question“ and thence setting up the whole shebang, including the infinite process of designing, wording and mailing out the invitations.

But, alas, there are also all the un-dreamy, anti-amoric administrative aspects to be taken care of. Not that I know much about these, I remain happily ignorant. Still, the expressions pre-nuptials, tax considerations, family discount, et al. sound familiar if not melodic and one can imagine the frenzied considerations that about-to-tie-the-knot couples might get into as they hash out the particularities of their wedding band tag ceremony. As they envision the haze of years ahead.


And weddings flow into marriage, augur as best they can the togetherness to come, try to pre-empt the acid-drip of wedded days through one splendid sacrament: until death do us apart. Some succeed, mind you: a solitary figure weeping upon a rain-swept tombstone, a steely-eyed couple of octogenarians tossing back a toxic cocktail high above lake Zurich, age-flecked hands entwined in rigor longitudine dierum.

DeLillo though, arch-genius of rewording reality, sort of states that this be only one side of the medal. The other one is amorphous, a blur of two principles: female and male amalgmated into a binary unit. The undisentaglable mystery of marriage, not to be known by any outward signs, not by the hardest of prenup agreements nor the most clear-cut of ceremonies, not even by the bloodproof of kiss-coitus-child-ren. This is what there is and we cannot, when all is written and undone, make sense of it: Two people make a blur.



About tmabona

writer, reader [bolano, DW, bellow, deLillo], runner, badmintoneer
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