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Madison Scott-Clary
2020-02-16 01:00:11 -08:00
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book/content/birds.tex
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@ -6,7 +6,7 @@
\end{rightcolumn*}
\begin{leftcolumn}
First of all, let me state that I'm feeling pretty good as I write this. I feel the need to state such because a lot of my tweets and a lot of my previous entries could be construed as worrisome, and probably legitimately so, because I have the tendency to vent freely. If I feel bad, I write, and if I'm not at a computer, sometimes that ends up on Twitter. It's never my goal to freak anyone out, so much as to simply cope with what's going on. Writing, putting things in words and stringing those words together into some form meaningful to others, is a good way for me to cope with what's happening in my life. That said, although I try to be frank about symptoms, I know that some are disturbing taken at face value or to their logical extremes, so I promise: I'm feeling pretty good now!
\noindent First of all, let me state that I'm feeling pretty good as I write this. I feel the need to state such because a lot of my tweets and a lot of my previous entries could be construed as worrisome, and probably legitimately so, because I have the tendency to vent freely. If I feel bad, I write, and if I'm not at a computer, sometimes that ends up on Twitter. It's never my goal to freak anyone out, so much as to simply cope with what's going on. Writing, putting things in words and stringing those words together into some form meaningful to others, is a good way for me to cope with what's happening in my life. That said, although I try to be frank about symptoms, I know that some are disturbing taken at face value or to their logical extremes, so I promise: I'm feeling pretty good now!
I'm torn.
@ -48,7 +48,7 @@ That's why I'm torn.
\begin{leftcolumn}
\begin{quotation}
I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt, and perhaps it says, ``Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.''
\noindent I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt, and perhaps it says, ``Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.''
--- Lewis Carroll
\end{quotation}
@ -56,25 +56,25 @@ I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently?
I've mentioned ritual before, but I think that's tied into the larger feeing of portentousness. Ritual is one way to sate that sense of intense meaning surrounding an act or an object.
\begin{quotation}
A goose is dumb. A thousand geese darkening the horizon is a portent. Mindless honking, individually directionless, collectively unstoppable
\noindent A goose is dumb. A thousand geese darkening the horizon is a portent. Mindless honking, individually directionless, collectively unstoppable
--- Makyo (@drab\_makyo) February 12, 2014
--- @drab\_makyo February 12, 2014
\end{quotation}
Any little thing can carry meaning for one person far outweighing what it might mean to others. Something about flocks of geese terrifies me. It's not a logical fear, it's a sense of foreboding. It's not the geese themselves, it's the concept of geese, the lack of any ritual to solve the problem of geese.
\begin{quotation}
A goose is tasty. Geese taste like horror. Acrid tang of ill omens \emph{froth}
\noindent A goose is tasty. Geese taste like horror. Acrid tang of ill omens \emph{froth}
--- Makyo (@drab\_makyo) February 12, 2014
--- @drab\_makyo February 12, 2014
\end{quotation}
It's dumb. Geese are dumb. There's no reason I should feel any sort of emotion at all surrounding geese, but I do.
\begin{quotation}
Why are geese so portentous? Why do they cause anxiety? Did I take my meds this morning?
\noindent Why are geese so portentous? Why do they cause anxiety? Did I take my meds this morning?
--- Makyo (@drab\_makyo) February 12, 2014
--- @drab\_makyo February 12, 2014
\end{quotation}
Ritual is like that. There is some level of meaning that's inexpressible except if you can find a way to come at it from the side. Use words like `portent'. Describe it as an odor, a sense, a mystery. Ritual and sensation are wily and wary critters that want nothing less than to be identified, pointed out, made plain. You're supposed to just go along with the ritual and accept the portentous as fact.