The sky reddens so , it saddens
me in my grappling
with the barricades of language,
the things I cordon off.
It ought not to redden so, sadden so;
this sky that spreads
its immensity
over mind that grapples with the limited thing
called understanding.
In a moment it cascades so
as to collide and merge
with the things never known before,
and over ages it cannot see
the things that happen under the nose,
The sky, the reddening sky, you must not sadden me.
me in my grappling
with the barricades of language,
the things I cordon off.
It ought not to redden so, sadden so;
this sky that spreads
its immensity
over mind that grapples with the limited thing
called understanding.
In a moment it cascades so
as to collide and merge
with the things never known before,
and over ages it cannot see
the things that happen under the nose,
The sky, the reddening sky, you must not sadden me.
**** originally shared: by Sushama Karnik
Voigt-Kampff Metaphors
Object Self-Assessment (excerpts without Likert scale):
1. I believe in the possibility of original ideas.
2. Originality is probably significant.
3. I agree with the following statement:
"For every man alone thinks he hath got to be a Phoenix" (J. Donne)
"Thing," orthographically and pronouncedly, is one of the ugly words in contemporary American usage. Yet it is also, inferentially and historically, one of the most subtle and beautiful of our words. It is lamentable that we do not speak the way Chaucer spoke. From the year 1400 and a work of Lydgate, Troy-Book , the text reads: "That thei with Paris to Greece schulde wende, To Brynge this thynge to an ende." The Trojan war was a thing? Of course it was a thing, for "thing" means concern, assembly and, above all, an affair. Thing is a woman's menses and a dispute in the town. Thing is a male sex organ and a form of prayer. (The continuity is not intended, although desirable.) Thing is what is to be done or its doing. I can't give you any thing but love, baby. That is the only thing I have plenty of, baby. When you come, bring your things. I forgot to bring my things. My things are packed away. Everything will be all right. And by the way, I hope that things will be better.
Music: Don't Try to Fool Me / Miss Li
https://youtu.be/I9U2E96QvBc
What and who are these things to which we cling? An old parimutuel ticket; a stub for game seven of the World Series; a class ring; a mug: a dead Havana cigar, loved but unsmoked; my snuff box, my jewelry drawer; an album; a diary; a yearbook -- all tumbled into the box of memories, but transcendent and assertive of me and mine. Do not throw out his things - they will be missed. Put her things in the attic, for someday she will want them as a form of reconnoitering her experienced past. Do you remember those things? I know that we had them. Where are they? They are in my consciousness. Can we find them? We didn't throw them out, did we? How could we? The making, placing, and fondling of our things is equivalent to making, placing, and fondling of our world. We are our things. They are personal intrusions into the vast, impersonal reach of space. They are functional clots in the flow of time. They are living memories of experiences had but still viable. They are memorials to experiences undergone and symbolically still ...
( The Drama of Possibility : Experience as Philosophy of Culture / J. McDermot, D. Anderson)
Image: Sunset / "J. M. W." Turner
Object Self-Assessment (excerpts without Likert scale):
1. I believe in the possibility of original ideas.
2. Originality is probably significant.
3. I agree with the following statement:
"For every man alone thinks he hath got to be a Phoenix" (J. Donne)
"Thing," orthographically and pronouncedly, is one of the ugly words in contemporary American usage. Yet it is also, inferentially and historically, one of the most subtle and beautiful of our words. It is lamentable that we do not speak the way Chaucer spoke. From the year 1400 and a work of Lydgate, Troy-Book , the text reads: "That thei with Paris to Greece schulde wende, To Brynge this thynge to an ende." The Trojan war was a thing? Of course it was a thing, for "thing" means concern, assembly and, above all, an affair. Thing is a woman's menses and a dispute in the town. Thing is a male sex organ and a form of prayer. (The continuity is not intended, although desirable.) Thing is what is to be done or its doing. I can't give you any thing but love, baby. That is the only thing I have plenty of, baby. When you come, bring your things. I forgot to bring my things. My things are packed away. Everything will be all right. And by the way, I hope that things will be better.
Music: Don't Try to Fool Me / Miss Li
https://youtu.be/I9U2E96QvBc
What and who are these things to which we cling? An old parimutuel ticket; a stub for game seven of the World Series; a class ring; a mug: a dead Havana cigar, loved but unsmoked; my snuff box, my jewelry drawer; an album; a diary; a yearbook -- all tumbled into the box of memories, but transcendent and assertive of me and mine. Do not throw out his things - they will be missed. Put her things in the attic, for someday she will want them as a form of reconnoitering her experienced past. Do you remember those things? I know that we had them. Where are they? They are in my consciousness. Can we find them? We didn't throw them out, did we? How could we? The making, placing, and fondling of our things is equivalent to making, placing, and fondling of our world. We are our things. They are personal intrusions into the vast, impersonal reach of space. They are functional clots in the flow of time. They are living memories of experiences had but still viable. They are memorials to experiences undergone and symbolically still ...
( The Drama of Possibility : Experience as Philosophy of Culture / J. McDermot, D. Anderson)
Image: Sunset / "J. M. W." Turner
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