Saturday, April 10, 2004
Harmonius Wordsmith
So much to do. Sleep to catch up on. Mindless games to play.
But instead, he has passed the afternoon reading. Compelled to. Drawn in.
Until there is nothing left to read.
Savouring, like a fine vintage, every drop, every thought. Every word.
He can't compare it to being drunk - he's never actually had the pleasure of psychedellic, alcoholic, purple moocow inebriation (though he's attempted desperately a few times to experience it); he's had the transient cerebellar dysfunction, perhaps even a touch of chemotactic zone rebellion. But never the euphoria that so many of his supposed friends enjoy.
(What's !Oom ? A cow falling over backwards!)
I, robot. Hello, Data.
Too dispassionate. Too able to dissociate, and Step Out of this world and Observe, for a while. A gift born of pain. (He dispassionately realises that the author he reads has that same mixed blessing, and curse.)
It's more like... reading a very good book. It IS exactly like reading a very good book. Infinitely more precious to him, than the fleeting stupor of ethanol.
*****
Within the myriad incandescent thoughts - so, so many! (and so many, uncannily, his own) he wades through, a barrage of - brutally intended? - questions assaults her readers. For some unknown reason, he feels inclined to answer.
1) Do you feel you have nothing else to look forward to each day because it's always the same old routine and nothing exciting or 'different' seems to happen to you?
- is routine so bad?
There is peace in routine. There is clarity. There is restfullness.
2) Do you feel that your days are meaningless because there doesn't seem to be a purpose to it all?
- Perceptive. Very perceptive.
- There is a purpose in everything. Do I believe that? Sometimes. Sometimes I have to wonder if perhaps I just want to believe that. And too often, I laugh at the idea entirely. (Cynic - 1, Romantic - 0)
But my days - are not meaningless. Purpose, or no.
Watching a child's face light up last night after giving her a sticker (my thorough physical exam, alas as yet fails to bring the same gratitude) I knew that much. This life I have is precious. And I will use it wisely. God willing.
3) Do you feel that something is missing from your life?
- why do we always blame that elusive something out there, not quite within our sight or grasp as the root of our disgruntled senses of unfulfillment? I've been there myself.
The matrix is in our own heads.
Personally, about the only thing missing from my life right now is lunch.
4) Do you suppose you feel lonely because you are single?
- Does anyone else out there feel relieved that they are single, or is it just me?
No, that's not my Y chromosome talking. Surely many of you have been there, done that. I'm hardly original - the aftermath of a floundering relationship.
Stepping beyond the brink, heady freedom and sheer, unadulterated relief.
Lonely? Sometimes.
Sometimes when I look back to another time when I had a soulmate.
Singlehood?
Smiles.
5) Do you suppose that having a relationship would make the dull ache of this meaningless existence more bearable because you would no longer have to suffer on your own?
Why complicate the already-complicated?
6) Do you suppose that experiencing another person on an intimate level will make up for your disconnection from your own consciousness and self?
The further into it he reads, the more he realises that these questions are not directed at him.
Intimacy is defined on many levels.
Physical intimacy broaches only the surface.
But he suspects, that is not what she meant.
*****
He is puzzled. The writing so sophisticated, the flow of carefully selected words so seamless, the form so carefully and intricately crafted. The melody so richly composed.
Yet rarely, several dissonances. "Have"s, and "had"s in subtle juxtaposition. Present and present perfects - he thinks, since he's never quite understood the rules beyond what jars the senses, and what does not - intertwined.
But that's not what puzzles him.
He is confounded to find that he doesn't really mind. He, the Pedant. The Pragmatist.
Form triumphs over function.
*****
You have achieved what you set out to do. There is a unique rhythm, there are subtle crecendos and decrescendos. Abrupt forttissimos. Plaintive solliloquays.
There is a lyrical quality about it all. There is music in Your words.
And they are breathtakingly beautiful.
But you know this all, already.
You knew it, as you wrote them.
*****
He disagrees though, on just one point.
Perhaps it's just him.
But courage is not his be-all and end-all.
Any good RPG will show you that; perhaps waters are muddier in Multi User Dungeons.
Courage alone creates a Fighter. An individual who will still face insurmountable odds despite the knowledge of inevitable defeat. You saw it in LOTR 3 at the final battle, the massively outnumbered humans valiantly raising their swords; You saw it in The Last Samurai as the grizzled, heavily encumbered swordsmen charged down towards the sleek, immaculately invincible rifle-lines.
That euphoric moment, that beautiful end.
But Grace is far greater. Grace brings with it honour. And courage. Grace prevents the misapplication of courage, the senseless bar-brawl. The misguided duel between close compatriates over a fair maiden. Grace brings the courage to defer, to stand down, at great personal loss.
Grace crafts a Paladin.
But you knew this already, as well.
So much to do. Sleep to catch up on. Mindless games to play.
But instead, he has passed the afternoon reading. Compelled to. Drawn in.
Until there is nothing left to read.
Savouring, like a fine vintage, every drop, every thought. Every word.
He can't compare it to being drunk - he's never actually had the pleasure of psychedellic, alcoholic, purple moocow inebriation (though he's attempted desperately a few times to experience it); he's had the transient cerebellar dysfunction, perhaps even a touch of chemotactic zone rebellion. But never the euphoria that so many of his supposed friends enjoy.
(What's !Oom ? A cow falling over backwards!)
I, robot. Hello, Data.
Too dispassionate. Too able to dissociate, and Step Out of this world and Observe, for a while. A gift born of pain. (He dispassionately realises that the author he reads has that same mixed blessing, and curse.)
It's more like... reading a very good book. It IS exactly like reading a very good book. Infinitely more precious to him, than the fleeting stupor of ethanol.
*****
Within the myriad incandescent thoughts - so, so many! (and so many, uncannily, his own) he wades through, a barrage of - brutally intended? - questions assaults her readers. For some unknown reason, he feels inclined to answer.
1) Do you feel you have nothing else to look forward to each day because it's always the same old routine and nothing exciting or 'different' seems to happen to you?
- is routine so bad?
There is peace in routine. There is clarity. There is restfullness.
2) Do you feel that your days are meaningless because there doesn't seem to be a purpose to it all?
- Perceptive. Very perceptive.
- There is a purpose in everything. Do I believe that? Sometimes. Sometimes I have to wonder if perhaps I just want to believe that. And too often, I laugh at the idea entirely. (Cynic - 1, Romantic - 0)
But my days - are not meaningless. Purpose, or no.
Watching a child's face light up last night after giving her a sticker (my thorough physical exam, alas as yet fails to bring the same gratitude) I knew that much. This life I have is precious. And I will use it wisely. God willing.
3) Do you feel that something is missing from your life?
- why do we always blame that elusive something out there, not quite within our sight or grasp as the root of our disgruntled senses of unfulfillment? I've been there myself.
The matrix is in our own heads.
Personally, about the only thing missing from my life right now is lunch.
4) Do you suppose you feel lonely because you are single?
- Does anyone else out there feel relieved that they are single, or is it just me?
No, that's not my Y chromosome talking. Surely many of you have been there, done that. I'm hardly original - the aftermath of a floundering relationship.
Stepping beyond the brink, heady freedom and sheer, unadulterated relief.
Lonely? Sometimes.
Sometimes when I look back to another time when I had a soulmate.
Singlehood?
Smiles.
5) Do you suppose that having a relationship would make the dull ache of this meaningless existence more bearable because you would no longer have to suffer on your own?
Why complicate the already-complicated?
6) Do you suppose that experiencing another person on an intimate level will make up for your disconnection from your own consciousness and self?
The further into it he reads, the more he realises that these questions are not directed at him.
Intimacy is defined on many levels.
Physical intimacy broaches only the surface.
But he suspects, that is not what she meant.
*****
He is puzzled. The writing so sophisticated, the flow of carefully selected words so seamless, the form so carefully and intricately crafted. The melody so richly composed.
Yet rarely, several dissonances. "Have"s, and "had"s in subtle juxtaposition. Present and present perfects - he thinks, since he's never quite understood the rules beyond what jars the senses, and what does not - intertwined.
But that's not what puzzles him.
He is confounded to find that he doesn't really mind. He, the Pedant. The Pragmatist.
Form triumphs over function.
*****
You have achieved what you set out to do. There is a unique rhythm, there are subtle crecendos and decrescendos. Abrupt forttissimos. Plaintive solliloquays.
There is a lyrical quality about it all. There is music in Your words.
And they are breathtakingly beautiful.
But you know this all, already.
You knew it, as you wrote them.
*****
He disagrees though, on just one point.
Perhaps it's just him.
But courage is not his be-all and end-all.
Any good RPG will show you that; perhaps waters are muddier in Multi User Dungeons.
Courage alone creates a Fighter. An individual who will still face insurmountable odds despite the knowledge of inevitable defeat. You saw it in LOTR 3 at the final battle, the massively outnumbered humans valiantly raising their swords; You saw it in The Last Samurai as the grizzled, heavily encumbered swordsmen charged down towards the sleek, immaculately invincible rifle-lines.
That euphoric moment, that beautiful end.
But Grace is far greater. Grace brings with it honour. And courage. Grace prevents the misapplication of courage, the senseless bar-brawl. The misguided duel between close compatriates over a fair maiden. Grace brings the courage to defer, to stand down, at great personal loss.
Grace crafts a Paladin.
But you knew this already, as well.
