And the Cannon Exploded into Thought

I never used to like the ellipse much.  Always thought it was a cop-out, kind of like the semicolon (and, to a certain extent, the colon).  At least that’s what was drilled into my head from an early age.  Though, I guess that’s not true.  It is odd; indeed: quite strange.
Perhaps it’s not that others don’t beleive in celebrating the self, as I so ardently do: Perhaps it is that they don’t know which self to celebrate.

I suppose this is what Rimbaud meant when he said that a poet is meant to experience every possible experience.  It’s not just that he’s supposed to go down a laundry list (that, too), but there’s a certain connotation of fullness that is, for better or for worse, being a particular self within the experience of the moment.  Or maybe the moment of the experience?  Time and everything else tends to be treated as two separate things, which leaves the possibility for statement nesting open…I am the poet…

Have you ever transcended space and time?

YeS!

 

NO!

Space: yes.

 

Time: NO.

In fact, no one has any idea what that means (Save perchance for David O. Wilson and Lily Tomlin but they certainly don’t understand it together).
It’s funny how Siddhartha starts with Siddhartha taking this process of self-switching for granted (and, even more on a metalevel, by implication the recognition, acceptance, and understanding of being other things as a self within each one, which is a necessary precondition).  He is the rock, he is the falcon: but it’s not enough!  It’s so brief, so unsatisfactory.  I just _love_ that about Hesse, how he writes at that metalevel to the metathinkers and doesn’t give a damn about anyone else.  I used to hate it, but then I embraced it when I realized I don’t have many people to talk to other than these authors.  No one, really, other than these authors.  And who could be more conversational than a person who’s talking to me?

Who is the ombudsman who is identifying the selves?  Does she (it) need to be a self?
It’s not an epiphany, a scintillating fireworks explosion in the sky, some loud noise that almost hurts the ears but only for a second.  It’s another self, I guess, a self that’s so confused that she does not want to exist, because she is on the verge of collapse, she wants to collapse..
“Dada doesn’t give a shit about the reader.  Dada is.”

“Dada is so much that it doesn’t even need to justify the utterance ‘Dada is’ by completing the sentence.  Dada is so much that it won’t grant the reader the satisfaction of leaving its justificatory refutations incom

(Another self.)

I see it all slipping away from me, but I don’t feel it yet.  Right now everything is calm and warm and wet, but I can see through the walls of my glass house into the pipes and it’s clear that the hot water is going to be cut off soon.  Soon my shower will come to an abrupt and rude end.  So:

1) If I choose to continue with my goals that will cut off the hot water, then I need to be the self that is that (that I am now, or so I profess), but I fear what I’ll lose and what I’ll shut-out in the process
2) If I choose to keep the hot water flowing, then I need to be another self (oh, but how mind-numbing it is!)
3) Who IS in there?

Shantih shantih shantih

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One Response to “And the Cannon Exploded into Thought”

  1. rilkesgrandaughter Says:

    These are not the present thoughts of *Rilkesgraddaughter or **LaPetiteUmlaut; rather, I’m not sure she ever had these thoughts–but she had this discussion once upon a time, however, it’s unclear if she was the speaker or the spoken-to….

    * I have ALWAYS been a fan of the semi-colon and ellipse
    ** I have REALLY ALWAYS been a fan of the semi-colon….AND ellipse

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