At first I thought it wouldn’t bother me, but increasingly it does, that whenever I encounter the word (or prefix) “meta”, (including in an Ancient Greek context), the company with that name intrudes on my thoughts. Isn’t it upsetting that they have the power to infiltrate language like that? Then I remember, many words' meanings have been twisted over the last few hundred, or thousands of years, butchered, scraped off the slaughterhouse floor, stuffed into sausage, etc. Like holding onto body, holding onto meaning takes constant regenerative work. (Not just linguistic…) Sometimes I wonder whether current or future generations will be able to think, at all, whether ours is the last generation of thoughtful people.
Sometimes I feel like one reason I started my blog is, in case that’s true. When weaving in loose threads from the past becomes a witness statement to an alien future. It makes me think of judgment day. Something everybody should realize about themselves is that comedy is local, to time and place, while marriage is forever.
Art is an expression of relationship with the world, and therefore, (because god is the relationship of the world with itself), with god. I think often about how weird (wonderful?) it is, how poets got away with it, providing alternate ontologies. Or providing any ontology at all. Raising people up in ontologies, without them even knowing it. Something so powerful, disguised as optional, elective, irrelevant, a matter of personal taste. A war, disguised as sweet nothing.
The titanic is sinking. Here we are, keeping each other afloat with bare reminders of beauty.
Yes, and I agree, everything is very monstrous on here.