Saturday, June 10, 2006

6.10.06, To Recent Comments, In Brief

[Forget the "yet" in the first line below. That's all for today. No doubt nobody needs more Tyranny of the Word, as my secret agent blog consultant pointed out this evening. -Mr. J]

Not so much a "real" post yet, but I wanted to respond to some comments. Especially on the last post on posting and dreaming. Franky Scale for now, 7ish. Hoping the physiological day will settle, back on chemo too/though.

Comments: Frarella. There have been a few comments or posts here and there that, in Dennis Hopper's words, "really put the whammy" on my head. F's above is one. That's why you're my brother. And what you said and what you question, shit, brings it all to the surface--the rest, for now, is silence.

Tossing Salads. I still can't believe that's your profile name, but what the hell am I going to do in a family full of lesbians? I've been thinking of calling and then wondered at how seriously you do take "giving me space"--so, you should call, too, of course, but on the other hand, the sign of respect you've given is immensely appreciated at a time when the need to be heard/listened to is really heightened for me. Thanks & love. And yes, Dan's smile.

Slarry. When did you get Suzanne Vega's permission? And, I love to see how myths are made. Those readers who know much of my family, and perhaps it's all families, see this grand process of narritivization at work. You notice how I rise above the pain and push through, just like Armstrong, running through the crashing thunderbolts and lightning. Sorry, not true. There was no rain. On the nice day I did run; on the pouring rain day I felt like crap and slept. Reality is not always as attractive as myth but I do think when we brave it enough to pass it on untarnished it can be better. Another one, not from the comments. Did you know that I was nearly 13 lbs when I was born?! Well, OK, I was only 11 something, my family would say, "don't be silly." And yet. Truly miraculous, mythical proportions. I actually believed that little family story until I saw my birth records and realized that, no, I was not a latter-day Hercules. It was something like 9 lbs — I don't know what the average is but I think the point should be clear. Myth making alive and well. Maybe later today I'll do a triathalon, work in a shelter for six or seven hours, and then donate my life insurance policy the less fortunate, oh, and write a novel. Some people dream. . . ;-)

And all the comments on boxes, I am tempted to read some kind of innuendo in those. Again, a family full of lesbians. . .

Machine. From a day before this. Thanks again for the word loan. The honor is mine and I'm always up for the narrative of an idiot man child and full of sound and fury. It signified everything.

David #1. Words, words, words. I'm always curious to see what comes next.

David #2. Mr. R. Good to see your comment. It's been a long time & I hope you're well. Mr. Kenyon's got my number you should call him, it'd be good to talk.

Spacely. Spelling is overrated. But then so are the concepts of "fun" and "happiness." I'm just trying to come to mutual understanding and I hope none of what I said/say comes across as harsh. I've been planning a blog on those two modern concepts above: not just that people have different tastes and notions of what they mean, but that they actually are all too often, in my view, dangerous tools used to keep us down. Too much Serious Thought might result in our uprising, our questioning authority, our desire actually to do something about the truly harsh ways the world is unfair. What's more, fun and happy require privelege. Not everyone can afford them.

Sure it sounds overly dry and academic, still, here Frued is right on the primary nature in our mental life of the pleasure principle. "[F]rom the point of view of the self-preservation of the organism [us] among the difficulties of the external world [let's say, cancer]," the pleasure principle is not about maximizing the amount of pleasure in our lives, always chasing fun and happy, but rather its tempered somewhat with the reality principle and what it's really about is decreasing the amount of unpleasure in our lives. But the pleasure principle untempered is "inneficient and even highly dangerous" (Freud Reader 596). I'd go even farther with this and say right out that Happiness and Fun make up an ideology that is wonderfully effective at keeping us down, and/or redirecting our energies from the truly meaningful to the transient and distracting. I'm always feeling guilty because I'm not happy enough! So, sure, I like movies, distractions, and I'm guilty of engaging in commodity "therapy," but one thing I am not worried about now that I look off at the foreshortened horizon is how much fun I'm having. I don't know, it's not a novel insight in my life. I've been scroogie for a while, but I think that also bafflement, thoughfulness, perplexity, amazement, sadness, grief, being serious, or occcasional lack of unpleasure, etc. are probably all more substantial than fun. And happiness I've never, honestly, understood very well: the question "Are you happy?" has always confused me.


david said...

down the page.

Facility esp. with language might make it easier
might facilitate
an easy (facile) expression of notice, attention,concern, while also making it difficult obstructing
some deeper register of the encounter, involvement;
might, that is, deflect or parry
what one wants
is a clear and steady eye
a determination not tomake it easy but clear,
as it occurs to me now and over again
there has never been anything like this blog
written in the English language.

But 'blog' is not the right word for what is a simultaneous record, register,
meeting place, sweat lodge prayer mat
coffe shop sidewalk walk and
determined, dedicated, steady
conflating of present, past, future,
what he bears and will, and what we
bear witness to and companionship
as much as we can bear it,
which takes me back to the beginning,
the post of yesterday, so clear and forthright
as to leave no room for verbal maneuver
around or past it,
all the plain truth of this long and O we wish
longer moment as we gather day to day
and read what he has written so plain and clear not a single one any more could mistake the meaning of it.

Nothing left to argue, deny.

you are there, and we are all here
while you work, you write, we read,
and in that nanosecond microfilm layer
between the written and the read, the writing
and the reading of it, the many different heres and the single there,
we do sense one by one the weight of every single word.

Slarry said...

Sunday, June 11th, 2006

THE SWAN-MYTHOLOGY: How it came to be ......????
Dear Mr. Jones: Yes, you really did weigh 13 to 14 pounds at birth. : )
I too, believed the myth until I was well into my 30’s.
Now and lately, I have been sticking to the 9 pound six ounces. Not the
HERCULORIAN TODDLER SPEAKS KOREAN FLUENTLY AT THREE MONTHS, like the tabloid magazines that I see in the grocery line.
However, I am sticking with and will be forever grateful for, your miraculous qualities and how you came to be. No, not from evolutionary tadpoles, silly--- I already know you will take issue with me about the miraculous part. Like the good book says, it’s ok, I’m comfortable with how and why I believe and feel the way I do.
You know, the good book doesn’t say anything remotely like that. Maybe I’m getting it confused with the Musical, FIDDLER ON THE ROOF. : )
To Mr. F. Frallea: Larry and Lefty MISS you and want to see you. When will that be, when will it occur? I don’t know how long we can wait. Plus, we want to meet your girls.
To Ms. DZD from over the bridge and the city by the bay: We think about you often and love you even more. Hope to see you soon and that your burdens will become lighter. You also are completely aware of the Swan-Mythologies; and not just those surrounding Mr. Jones. You are aware of the Swanker’s many quirks; phone attachment, enmeshment, our phobias and fears, Lesabitians floating all around, now, even more, like the fog you witness everyday and yet love us anyway. Well, at least most of us .... : )
To David: Love your words. Thank you.

To the beauty and uniqueness of wonderland, that’s just it. Beautiful and unique-- a wonderment.
My brother is getting ready to take flight again. And as I said before, I love hanging with Mr. Jones. To those of you who don’t know him well, be so grateful for the blog, the insight and glimpses into his soul that he is so honestly offering.
There are other myths, well, actual real stories about ice cream and ice cream cones, who put it in the other’s face. --- that one is from Ms. TP Tree.
There are also the many memories of Mr. Jones that surround and fill my mind, especially now, that he is leaving Zion again. Especially now, with this tragic, terminal diagnosis hanging around and being more overtly obvious.
This is his reality, and so it becomes mine.
Someday I’ll comment on FUN and what that word currently does to me, when other’s tell me to that I SHOULD TRY AND HAVE MORE OF IT. But it’s Sunday, and I promised myself I wouldn't swear or call people names.
But it goes right along with the difference between the definition of what is CHRONIC versus a disease that is TERMINAL--- like being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. The difference is HUGE, my friends. One is uncomfortable, annoying, painful and very inconvenient-- not fun, and could last forever. And is very, very bad. Yucky and putrid.
The other, Terminal, is all of the above, and more, more, more: --- except it doesn’t last forever. There is no chronic, lifelong, painful illness to deal with. Someone dies. In this case, perhaps my miraculous brother. Try coping with that .... So many people, really good people, don’t get that. I will have to learn patience-- well, actually I’m learning it now. And not to judge too harshly or quickly. Anyone who knows me, knows that these are not my best character traits. But I am trying.
Whenever I get to this part, I tend to get a little angry and then, very, very sad, for many reasons and circumstances.

But I will keep hoping, keep coping -- Mr. Jones is unique and miraculous.
So I can’t help but continue to beg and wish for another miracle now. Knowing full well the numbers are stacked against it-- I am here for you, Mr. Jones, ALL IN, as I continue to play and live my own hand.
We will miss you-- but know we will see you soon.

Spacely: Thanks for the late night Prune Juice delivery : )