ohmybrokenleg
Member 1981
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Polytopia
FPF (M, 28)
Cáceres, ES
Immortal since Nov 14, 2008
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I read and write, that's all. I'm doing some research on language, inscription... kind'a trying to fool Kant (poor me) and his hypochondriac melancholy as reflected in the Transcendental Aesthetic of his Critique of Pure Reason, that is to say, to figure how we could translate into some kind of literary text, that is to say, essay-poetry-prose (interwoven), an outer experience of times (notice the plural), languages and places. How many and what dialects should we be able to understand?
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    A critical first try
    Project: Polytopia
    First of all, I ask for forgiveness, I can hardly manage to express myself in English
    with some clarity, not to speak of correctness, apropiateness or whatever "-ness"
    you might wish or expext.

    Second: (Side number two, said number two)
    I would like to open a question
    here

    about Emerson, Thoreau and that line of
    beautiful prose producers
    which remind me so much like some
    German then English "romantics"
    that dangerous dangerous word

    and made me wonder, better say wander, around a freezing 'concept',
    (using that term makes me feel really funny): 'infinite'
    that word is poisonous, makes me have horrible digestions
    and better nightmares,
    the point is
    the question
    (that i'm afraid i'll have to rewrite in some days)
    is about abstraction,
    the retorical magnification which produce
    some words, expressions that work
    like makeup works,
    what about keeping the narratives healthy
    what about keeping them real, and concrete,
    more than metahuman?

    Isn't the theory of multiple worlds
    a dangerous scape form this sinking one,
    the last heavy burden for it?

    Fri, Jul 17, 2009  Permanent link

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    notthisbody     Fri, Jul 17, 2009  Permanent link
    not a theory of multiple worlds,
    we are not calling them into being by proclamation.

    rather, the recognition of multitudinous perspectives
    and those synapses between.

    the narratives are healthy? hard to say -

    some are sick,
    some are lost,
    some are up in the clouds
    some try to gain ground
    some find their crowd
    some desire the real,
    most desire the ideal, unattainable...

    its not about abstraction
    but action
    ripping off band-aids,
    letting scabs finally heal & flake off
    without our constant picking,
    a salving of sores, if you will;
    allowing connections despite masks
    of status, language, politics, circumstance,
    find what is real to each of us,
    conspiratorial co-inspiration.

    we are detectives in an ongoing investigation:
    a stripping of false pretenses
    of egos
    of the esoteric
    of what can't be done nor changed, & how we can.

    our last heavy burden will continue to float
    for far longer than we predict.
    In the meantime,
    we are remodelling our boat not on a drydock
    but on water.

    one day some sailors figured out
    how to walk on water,
    others to fly;
    They took their tools
    and anchored their boat all over the world.

    this is about setting a focus.

    one question remains, the personal one;
    are you sick to your stomach
    when you look to the stars?


    p.s. something here in your thoughtstream resonates Synecdoche, New York
    p.s.s. apologies, sir, but this is an apology-free space :)
     
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