The mouth gapes at the enticements inviolate. Upon which edifice do I ebb my flow? The mind reels as reality appears apparently regal in the heat rising from the molten sea of the fertile muse.
A blog? A blog. Ahh...blag, blag, blag.
Inscriptions: prescriptions combating infectious ennui at the line of scrimmage.
I thank the mind which raised common humanity from the level of grunt to verbosity to hieroglyphic and present representational thought. The technology has evolved from then until now, has expanded in its universality (though smaller vision sees only the present without appreciating the horrid historic ignorance once pervasive in the world) and has become effervescent and fluid.
The very young to the very old, the very rich to the very poor have common access to language, in all of its guises, as never before in the history of humanity. Yet, as we seem to be wont, we self-effacingly claim to "dumb" ourselves "down."
In the days of Pharaoh, kings were illiterate. I traverse the city, and find the smugly rebellious perfectly capable of defacing my tax-paid-for public facilities using phonetically spelled and artistically designed graffiti. What is more, I know quite well what they are suggesting that I do with my attitude, and who they blame for the world they experience.
Yet we label these metro-geniuses as significantly subhuman. Travesty.
Here we communicate instantly, in voice and text, using and understanding each. A miraculous age we live in...yes? And tragic.
Dad, I like you.
ReplyDeleteHappily, I was able to understand your verbosity! Thank you, English Literature classes, for insisting I read Milton and Shakespeare, for now I can understand my daddy!
ReplyDeleteTo be understood, or not to be understood, that is the question. Whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of misunderstanding, or to stand against a sea of ignorance and through constant consistent application, end it. And yet--credit where credit is due--'tis not my effort, but yours which brings us, together, to this happy end. Twill bring a parchment award for your wall as well...which is COOWIL!
ReplyDeleteBut I am afraid that you put me in a class of princes (some say scoundrels) to which I am neither seeking for nor equal to.
LUVYALOTS,
Dad
Marie...I like you too! You gotta a parchment decoration. Do you now understand me? HMMMMM?
ReplyDeleteGirls, lemme know when you get me, then tell me what you find out. I'd be interested, because I get confused sometimes, and your Mom really does. Just when she thinks she gets me, I pulla Jerry Lewis, then spend a few days reacquainting myself with me. She has to go through another recapitulation: and it is an A' recap, not and exact replication. It is the "primal" aspect that is most confusing to the both of us.