anything I’ve said about enjoying Emerson’s language even when I hate his points is true thousandfold of Thoreau. maybe because of Thoreau’s drifty, dreamy, vaguely self-indulgent style, I love reading his work regardless of the way his ideas often clatter around aimlessly. these two sentences from “A Natural History of Massachusetts” summarize Thoreau’s charm in my eyes:

“I stay my boat in mid-current, and look down in the sunny water to see the civil meshes of his nets, and wonder how the blustering people of the town could have done this elvish work. The twin looks like a new river-weed, and is to the river as a beautiful memento of man’s presence in nature, discovered as silently and delicately as a footprint in the sand.”

part of me wants to retch at this sentimental writing, but it is still beautiful and effective. Thoreau’s quest to write a book review ends in a wildly-veering collection of borrowed poetry and snapshots of the natural world. it is endearing to imagine Thoreau sitting down to write and finding himself unable to disengage from this seemingly-bland text. he is passionate, which is what makes his writing as compelling as it is.

topically, I’m listening to the very, very excellent album Blazing Arrow by Blackalicious and the track “4000 miles” has this line:

“the final destination used to be my main question, but then I looked and all that I was searching for was present.”

in this track, they romanticize music as a unifier and spiritual force, with which I largely agree. the process of romanticizing, though, translates easily to Thoreau’s loving fixation on nature. he reminds me somewhat of the subject of the frightening, powerful documentary Grizzly Man, which is an example of transcendental philosophy carried to asocial extremes. the borderline noble-savage view of nature held by many transcendentalists leads grizzly man to live amidst bears. he talks to them like they’re his children or his brothers. it is upsetting and he suffers.

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