I really want to get this going....

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Saturday, August 16, 2008



There was always some line in a Passion Play or something like ‘I adjure you by the living God…’ something or other about ‘are YOU the Messiah’ or like that and I always got confounded by that usage having the I guess the usual confusion always between the words ‘adjure’ and ‘abjure’ which are actually 2 different and quite separate words one meaning ‘renounce/recant’ and the other meaning to ‘command under oath’ (adjure) which is of course the one meant in that Passion line and of course the ROOT in each case being very important from the Latin ‘ad’ in adjure meaning ‘to/towards’ and ‘ab’ in the other meaning ‘from/away’ - two entirely different affects underlying the root of each word and I KNEW it meant nothing really at all except that it was curious and the sort of thing which absorbed (‘ab’) my mind always.

And I know what you’re saying – like how could words simple words be so important or have any consequence like that but in their own way they’re important and the sort of person who would overlook things like that is the same sort of person who would overlook life itself if he or she could : the smallest of the little markings which pass them by the ideas and the notes which generate the ideas - the whole passel of the passing parade of stuff which happens and continues to occur OUTSIDE of the structural prison each person lives within and as I see it if you can’t catch any of that material then what’s the use of any of the rest - it’s all enough to become a trap and the trick is that no matter what you have to live it all anyway and whatever the consequences - which is why I get so annoyed when I realize how difficult it is to ‘speak the truth’ and the fact of the matter is that people won’t LET you speak the truth because it’s discomfiting to them - everyone’s in their own way a little Fascist - and generally everything which goes on goes on for the same of ‘control’ as the autocratic roots of anything are well-fed and most often well-hid (which is the essential root cause too of the ‘psychological’ kingdom of which Freud and Jung and Karen Horney and all the rest were part of in their quest for a realization of this meaning behind things) for the fact of the matter is that much like Plato’s shadows on the cave wall and all of that we really are operating in a deficit of light and knowledge just blindly reacting to images we barely think we see and certainly don’t always understand and any of these actions or moves on the walls of our personal caves are wanted to be ours alone and safe and unmoving please and in the quest for the personal security we fall into myriad traps which we cannot avoid : which is where the fascism of means and intents come in - we won’t ‘allow’ people to speak a ‘Truth’ different from ours (even though that too is a paradox unless one accepts the procedural fact that there is ‘more than one truth’ which then negates truth – but that’s another philosophical task entire) BUT no matter it’s just like that and just think for instance if I’d gone up to some happy little thriving shop owner out front of his shop any day hosing down the sidewalk and said ‘this city is foul the place reeks of the stench of urine the people are always indignant about everything it’s worldy and vulgar and trashy too – who but an animal would live here?’ – that person surely would have to turn to me and say things about the cultural amenities the richness of wealth and fine living the overwhelming indications of learning and tradition and the past with its array of architecture beauty and glamour so as to at least defend his structural image of the place he inhabits and anything past that point would result in an uncomfortable or noxious conversation - why? - because we’d both be defending or at least approaching each of us our two different ideas of the presence of truth in everyday life no matter how distantly apart of wildly divergent that may be : that’s just what notes about this reality are : and then I’d watch as the shopowner would put the hose down the sidewalk would be wet and the debris he’d washed would be at the curb he’d light a cigarette and with a white rag over his arm or in his hand he’d find a seat in the front on a chair so placed or on the Siamese water-connection out front and begin the normal observation of the passing parade while his minimum-wage helper was behind the counter or shuffling newspapers or unloading boxes of goods to be sold and the sidewalk grate would open as another helper begins going up or down with cartons and crates to or from the basement hole and the display cases out front would be tended – filled with flowers or fruits and vegetables on ice while just inside the coffee machine and express counter for cakes and sandwiches was busy and all sorts of passing locals came and went – buying this or that small item – and this would be a veritable completion of the internalized picture of that which the shopman sees and defends and lives daily : and that’s fine though not mine : so two divergent views in their inexorable way must pass and clash and close and remain....


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