Fill in with plastic adobe….

Ffolkes,

Hajime….. I’ll need to proceed with some caution this morning, I think; I feel a certain looseness, an instability, and could conceivably turn introspective at the slightest provocation. I’ll try to save it for the ranting section, but, sometimes, it just gets away from me, y’know? Since I managed to notice it before it hit me too hard, we do stand an even chance of getting through this without getting maudlin, or, fate forfend, sentimental. Makes me shiver to think of it… Brrr….

Of course, such an unstable portion of my soul can also lead to severe outbreaks of nonsense and/or blather, which, as you see, is showing signs of some leakage into this missive. Uh oh. Though I AM up a bit early, I don’t think we can afford to allow too much blather, or we’ll never get out of the intro. It’s already threatening to burgeon into more than bargained for, so, I should probably start to think about hitting the road for the oyster beds, soon. Better soon than never, right? Right…. Okay, let’s see what’s in this drawer over here….

Oh, look! I haven’t seen this one before…. I wonder what it does…. I know, I’ll just push this butt…..

Shall we Pearl?….

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    Norman Blake, Doc Watson, & Jerry Garcia, among many other famous bluegrass players of the day, performed at the Bluegrass Festival in Marin in the year 1974, turning in performances which became legendary…. I found it on YT, and have included here today for your listening pleasure…. Enjoy!….

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Y’all are, in some cases, probably scratching your head in puzzlement, wondering why a poem from Wordsworth would be, in the first instance, at the top of a section generally devoted to ranting, or, at minimum, examination of an idea of some sort. (That’s a clue, by the way….) In the second instance, you may wonder why it is used in conjunction with a picture of Plato and Aristotle, those prototypical philosophers. For those who are puzzled, relax, I’m gonna tell you. For those who have become used to our oddness, well, you’ve already girded your grid for a big one….

Let’s begin with the first lines, which, oddly enough, contain the words which prompted this treatise. “Getting and spending we lay waste our powers; little we see in Nature that is ours. We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!” To my way of thinking, one need not be a poet, or a scholar, to feel the truth of these words, for they hold an indictment of the majority of humanity, for the crime of refusing to be human, denying their own nature in favor of living in fear and delusion. A bit sweeping in scope, but, pretty clearly true, to my mind…..

Wordsworth uses the brevity of poetic expression to put his finger very precisely on that part of human nature which we have abrogate, to wit: our connection to Life, and the rest of the natural world. By “getting and spending” we de of alter our own perceptions to suit our feelings, has made us both powerful, and, afraid of that power…. This leads to an inner confusion, which is reflected in how we choose to deal with reality. For thousands of years, most people have chosen, in the name of expediency, and, in deference to their own inner conflict based on their fears, to embrace three delusional ideas, which have been drummed into their consciousness by unscrupulous predators from birth….

By accepting what they are told is truth, these unfortunate slaves have been easily manipulated, until we are now seeing a world rapidly approaching complete totalitarianism in government, as the few take advantage of the ignorant many, to foster the completion of their own paranoid vision of the universe, which gives them control of others, so they can feel safe. A pathetic dream, to be sure, but, all too real for comfort….

I’m growing both angry, and pedantic; I can feel both getting stronger as I think of these matters. I see little hope for our species into the next century. There are already climatic issues occurring which could conceivably end ALL life on this planet, in the next FIVE years. This sounds unreal, and, perhaps, unduly speculative, but, I can assure you, as a scientist, it is NOT speculation. Physical processes of a chemical nature are occurring, as I type, and we humans have no knowledge of how to stop the chemical process taking place, since we don’t really understand our own planet all that well. But, we keep pumping particulate matter into the air, anyway, even though it has become abundantly clear that doing so will lead to disastrous consequences.

See, that is the other face of our fatal flaw; we humans have the ability to deny reality, to pretend it doesn’t matter to us what may happen in the future, as long as our desires of the moment are being met. Every human I know, myself included, has this power, and it is a power that will, in the end, be our undoing….

SIGH…. I intended to rant on this for a while, but, seem to have reached a point where it’s best to move on…. Look around you, ffolkes; see what is REALLY going on in the big picture, and, I think, if you can be honest with yourself, you will see just how badly we humans have fucked up our chance at life…. and, how little time left we have to try to mitigate some of our foolishness, before it kills us all….

So be it. gigoid has spoken….

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“Emily Dickinson didn’t even publish books, she just wrote these demented little poems with a quill pen and hid them in her desk, but they still fought their way into the world, and lasted on and on and on. It’s damned hard to get rid of Emily Dickinson, she hangs on like a tick in a dog’s ear. And everybody who writes from then on in some sense has to measure up to this woman. In the art of book-writing the classics are still living competition, they tend to elevate the entire art-form by their persistent presence.” — Bruce Sterling

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Sorry ’bout the rapid removal up in the intro section, ffolkes. That was pretty radical, wasn’t it? I guess from now on I’ll test those devices out before employing them on a group; the insurance folks will like that. In the meantime, we have finished, and, not too shabbily, I’d say. Hey, it’s not every day you get a fresh poem, right? Since doing so rather fagged me out (the bleeding is copious until it gets down on paper/screen….), & I’ll need some time to recover…. 24 hours seems about right, so, I’ll see y’all right here tomorrow, if nobody aims straight….

À bientôt, mon cherí….