I shall sing you the song of my people

Reading the first few pages of The Heights of Macchu Picchu and it sparks a little something, not the words so much as the way the words are arranged, the way they revolve, the way some of them are like little centers of gravity, little planets in the solar system of the book.

Also check out this cover:

Words like harina, vacía, manantiales… I imagine Pablo Neruda saying I shall sing you the song of my people, like the meme.

I wonder what the song of my people is and then it hits me and I’m looking for index cards and I can’t find any and I almost scrap the undertaking entirely. I convince myself the notebook will do at least for now. Taking only a small break for the sushi that arrives via Seamless I fill up a few pages.

Some planetary candidates and I wonder how to architect the Big Bang, what I mean is now what. I feel like I’ve stumbled into something writerly but now I’m googling how do writers write and I remember Joyce’s schema for Ulysses, and I’ll have to post that in a second, but while I’m doing all this googling I find the name of what I’m talking about, it’s genetic criticism, or at least that’s what the guy on Reddit says.

So interesting when something is so unknown to you you can’t even google it.