My Fellow Lichtenbergians, I have been struck by possibly the greatest title ever for a literary magnum opus fictional or autobiographical since War & Peace. I wish I were joking. Because if I were joking, I wouldn’t feel the weight of responsibility the title places squarely on my shoulders as a wretched Lichtenbergian who has created his share of promising titles in the past. You could spend hours elaborating upon the implications of this title. You think I’m warming up for a punch line. A building up just to undercut? No. The eternal, cyclical rhythms of the human condition, the very essence of birth, procreation and death, the nature of all our labor, love, dreams, and effort, everything is right there in one neat phrase. Here it is:
Heavings & Leavings
Told you. Such a title only comes around once in a hundred years. As Lichtenbergians we are already drowning in the impossibilities waiting for us in such a title. All the bargaining, the self-betrayal, the insomnia, the self-medicating. Where to begin? Ah, begin, we shouldn’t. Begin, we couldn’t. Therefore, it would be therapeutic for all of us to offer just an opening sentence, nothing more. If that task is too impossible–and I am thanking the Deity that I’m off the hook, having done my bit by coughing up the title (I only transcribed, mind you; I’m a vessel, a medium, a messenger, etc.)–perhaps you can come up with a title or two of your own. It won’t even begin to come close to Heavings & Leavings, naturally, and just knowing that might make the task possible. Or we could ignore both tasks and use this clean, new post for further chat.
I have to say I like the title much better on the cover of the LS annual report. We could all contribute, and organize the annual contribution into suitable sections only after we saw what the contents were.
Great title on so many levels. Because of my condition I am taking it literally so here is my opening sentence.
“As the pain increased in intensity my stomach churned for relief and I headed as rapidly as I could to my place of refuge where I watched a swirling mass of confusion go down the drain.”
I’m sticking with my idea of the book as an annual report of abandoned projects and not-quites… given that:
“Though the passage of time never ceases its vicious acceleration, there seems paradoxically to be more opportunity to voluntarily reject or alternatively, almost accomplish both a greater quantity and wider variety of endeavors each annum.”
Aha! You have fallen neatly into my trap.
More later.
It was a dark and stormy night. As I heaved the faux William IV mahogany sofa over the banister, I developed a vague feeling of having left something behind.
Noble efforts. And I think Turff is right; it does make a nice report title. It’s got my vote. Kind of reminds me of the title of a collection of Beckett’s short prose works: Disjecta.
He hated having to go to the bathroom while attending parties in other people’s homes, even Bernice’s, especially if it involved excretion. Especially at Bernice’s.
Dale, does the trap involve your passing mention a few days ago of self-publishing?
Always serves to make them all think you’re several moves ahead. Grand Lichtenbergian stratagem.
MF pointed out that one could, as another option, just as easily write the last sentence as the first. She just doesn’t get it.
I like to think of this as self-publishing.
She heaves
He leaves
She heaves
You’re left.
Many heavings
Many leavings
Leaving you heaving
till
You heave
And leave.
What’s left?
Too dark? I can also do the Easter thing:
Good Friday: Heaving and leaving
The Stone before the Tomb: The Heft
Resurrection: He left
More heavings and leavings.
Buddhism: leaving heaving (enlightenment)
How about a hollywood spin on it…
“When their parents dressed them up and put on their makeup for the ‘Full House’ audition, they had no idea of the size of the media empire the twins’ vast stores of talent would eventually bring.”
I’m altering the title to Heave/Leave.
Last sentence(s):
He hoped that Bernice wondered why he left, and flushed.