a drowning. a submersion. a baptism (immersion)
I am drinking the arbitrary nothingness of symbols.
I am writing.
Writing is both a cry and a response.
Intuition / rationalization.
Nurtured and natural.
In the realm of symbols, I am safely between. In the place of no safety. The nowhere realm – a world of now here.
Where I am drowning. Delirious. Drunken on these symbols, arbitrary and well-developed, representative and unnecessary (?) signs.
I am alive.
Combining intellect to emotion to situation and its social constituents…I am writing, uttering, verbalizing –
– and, by chance, perhaps, you are here.
I am side-swiped. Side-tracked.
In other words,
I set out to circumlocute on this very “subject” / “topic” / “matter”…yesterday…
resulting in a nothing of the kind.
Drowning in a limitation of symbols –
“composition,” we call it,
“For it is in the nature of language, as I have already noted briefly, that it is governed by the principle of ‘duality of functioning’,..to be more specific, the distinctive features of the sound system that constitute a language are determined by the limited set of phonemes employed in constructing the next unit up, morphemes. And morphology is determined by the uses to which morphemes are put in forming lexemes or words. Words, in their turn, are formally describable by the functions they perform in sentences. Sentences, in turn, achieve their significance from the discourse in which they are embedded. Discourse is governed by the communicative intentions of the speakers. The communicative intentions of speakers, of course, are governed by the transactional requirements of the culture. And along the way, there are further determinants of form that operate in this same way…”
That sickness, that plenitude, those realistic illusions – as if one were totally absorbed in the unrealities of the human way of being-in-the-world.
“the world is not what we thought it was”
There will be a day my sons will die.
Hopefully I will be gone.
My spouse will die.
Hopefully I will be gone.
There is a word for things that hold too much (e.g. “things that can hold no more”)
Things at, or beyond, capacity.
There are 26 letters in the English alphabet. They are drunk, drowned, saturate.
And still there are fresh occurrences.
There are also #s, codes, algorithms, symbols…
I like the idea of doing something that matters, of being someone that matters, of my strange happenstance of existing as an organism having some effect, making some verifiable difference in a larger web of existing things
liking the idea certainly doesn’t make it so
and yet, perhaps,
My intention had been to talk about the wonder…
…that out of 26 letters…
this many years (generations, eons)
had even occurred.
that meaning, is interesting, is cool
that, to (lil’ ol’) me…
in 26 letters
#s, symbols, diagrams
we keep constructing…