Too many words have been spilled discussing other words, here as well as elsewhere, and so I will not willingly add to the linguistic effluence that plagues us all, casting us into the over-crowded and inane abyss of the superfluous from which one emerges- if one emerges- a lesser more confused entity in this, the raging sea of earthly existence.
When all is said and done, there is very little- in fact nothing- that can be said(or done), else our sentence descends into degraded nonsense. This time of which it could be said that all has been said and done is not, however, a time that has come upon us as yet, since it is clear that many things are still being said, such as this, and many other things being done. This hypothetical time of silence and inaction could not be said to be a time about which one could say very much, as one very quickly exhausts what one say about such silence and inaction. Try it, you'll produce a few lines along the lines of "An ever deepening stillness spread to and expanded within the inner sanctum of his being, which was expanding at a rate of knots. No words disturbed the mystery of the peace that was the very nature of his silent self, and in fact, there being no words, there was no his to have a self, nor self to have a his, which entities could be disturbed by these words which were now no more. The deepness deepened as he..." You'll weary of it after a time.
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8 comments:
A post surely inspired by the Abba classic, 'When all is said and done':
http://www.lyricsfreak.com/a/abba/when+all+is+said+done_20003009.html
Is not this the description of an overly rational self, too reliant upon language?
I kind of write intuitively, Jonathon, and I wouldn't quite pin down the 'meaning' to just being as you describe...with this kind of piece I might have a line and start writing & see what comes out. But having said that, the gentle lampooning of taking words too seriously would be something I naturally have an interest in, but whether it comes off or not I rational mind itself on a bit of a ride, and loosening its rigidity. Though it's not as if it's all done consciously,or else the conscious intent would destroy the writing and its joy in its own being: art delighting in its own being.
You may be onto something there, Elberry. However, knowing A, it would have to be 'Comfortably Numb' (the Scissor Sisters' version, of course).
The Scissors Sisters have covered Comfortably Numb?!
I see as usual I lost the coherence of one of my sentences in the response to J; I probably meant: "I like the idea of taking the rational mind itself on a bit of a ride, and loosening its rigidity"... I'll probably end up in Guanatnamo Bay on a charge of corrupting the minds of the youth, a charge for which, as is the new way in this era of the spreading of democracy, no evidence is required to remove the relevant subversive .
Didn't Abba write a song about Andrew? Which means he must be about 60 now. Strange, i always thought he was about 22. Bit disgusting, really, to think he's a dirty old man in off-white trousers, pretending to be a ripe young thing, when all the while Abba had written 'Fernando' about his time in the Mexican Revolution.
Hold on there Andrew, i'm revising my estimates. You not only must have been going strong in 1976, you were in the Mexican Revolution - now that's in 1910! Christ!
I'm actually 213, my longetivity due to a diet of carp fish, and a regime of regular exercise, cold baths and loose tobacco.
You are clearly Cornelius Vanderbilt.
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