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Sententiae et Epistulae  This summer, for the first time in many, many years, I'm unemployed for the summer (out of school, but not working for Borders or elsewhere). It is fun, in a way - I may be broke, but I'm spending my first summer as a married man with my wife, and that's thrilling. As always, I find it difficult to focus in the summer. I'm wrestling with some fundamental stuff (how to reconcile the paradoxes involved in being both a Romantic and an Intellectual, my acceptance of basic truths of Stoic teachings while nevertheless revelling in vast reservoirs of emotion, etc.). I've also begun attending Unitarian Universalist church with my wife, and that has given me more grist for the mill of my thoughts. I have a lot of work to do, preparing for the next school year, but I haven't been able to do any of it as yet. I need time and space to work, and an orderly environment. I haven't been able to achieve that as yet. But I shall. "Otium et reges prius et beatas/Perdidit urbes," ut Catullus scripsit. Current mood:  contemplative.
"Independence Forever!" Nescio quid scribam. Animus meus permotus et cruciatus esse mihi videtur. Nescio quid faciam, nescio quid dicam, nescio quid scribam. Current mood:  nescio.
Adhuc tres septimanas ego et uxor mea Gaia novam ecclesiam frequentabamus. Haec est Prima Ecclesia Unitariorum Providentiae; doctrina Unitariorum et mihi et uxori meae placet. Laeti sumus quod hanc ecclesiam invenimus! Current mood:  laetus.
A.d. V Kal. Apriles uxori meae paene fuit naufragium aerium. Iovi et Iunoni ampullas II vini vovit. Hodie a.d. XVI Kal. Maias, ego Gaius Tullius Valerianus Germanicus paterfamilias votum solvi. Current music: Megadeth, "Cryptic Writings". I don't usually do that hip and trendy thing, posting song lyrics to Livejournal. But right now I can't seem to get out of my head "When Everyone Forgets" by "Thou Shalt Not" (inspired by Neil Gaiman's "American Gods"): You followed me, I followed you With new language you lead me adrift To find and swallow you Into this continental rift but Will our song spill ancient text When our paths crossed, our power lost On railroad tracks or slaveship decks? Or has your love become neglect? And somewhere there's a memory A truth that lives in lies An echo of the way you knew me under foreign skies And will I live in hiding Between the silhouettes? Will you remember me when everyone forgets? Do you know me anymore? Wasn't I your comfort and your god And weren't you the shore I called you home and cried for you but Suns rise up and Shadow falls Over rooftops, years and eyes all in The hopes that you'll recall Oh wasn't I a god to you? Somewhere there's a memory A truth that lives in lies An echo of the way you knew me under foreign skies And will I live in hiding Between the silhouettes? Will you remember me when everyone forgets? I promise that I'll still be there Even when I haven't got a prayer Just a lonely stranger in America, but I'm still here Oh, god, I'm here I swear Somewhere there's a memory A truth that lives in lies An echo of the way you knew me under foreign skies And will I live in hiding Between the silhouettes? Will you remember me when everyone forgets? Current mood: nostalgic.Current music: the aforementioned "When Everyone Forgets". This was a sonnet I composed in 2005, and I found while going through my papers recently. It was a very odd poem for me to write, not least because it was the first poem I ever wrote in which I spoke with a woman's voice. The inspiration came from a talk I used to give in Mythology class about what a poor hero Odysseus seems to the thoughtful modern reader - he sails around, having sex with all these nymphs and sorceresses, all the while hoping that his wife is being faithful to him back home. And indeed, a big part of the story is Penelope's undying devotion to Odysseus. The paradox, of course, is that he does love his wife, he's just not faithful to her. "How could any woman stand to be with such a man?" was a frequent observation . . . and then it hit me that I had been in that role once, willing to overlook almost any transgression or infidelity because I was in love, and because I knew the paradox was true - she loved me too, she just wasn't faithful. Eventually we couldn't handle it anymore, and it ended, but I had been there. So I got inside Penelope's head for the first time, and I tried to put it into verse: Penelope’s Loom The years pass by and I still wait and weave, Refuse the suitors in my Husband's hall; I ask the gods, “why did He have to leave?” I wait, though He is reckoned dead by all. Why put my faith in love? Why do I wait? Why do I think my Love will dry my tears When he returns, however long or late, In love still strong despite the passing years? Why should I still be chaste, or true to love? I'm sure my Love has not been true to me! But mortal girls, and even gods above, Mean nothing now, if home with me He'll be. I weave a shroud for love that's still not dead, But like my mind, unravel all the thread. Current mood:  indescribable.
Gaia Valeria Pulchra, uxor mea, hodie iter ad civitatem Floridam fecit. Mater sua ibi habitat, et ista voluit Gaiam videre, nam dies natalis uxoris meae erit a.d. III Idus Martias. Sed separatio est terribilis . . . video delicias meas a.d. IV Kalendas Apriles . . . multos dies excruciabor! Uxorem meam maxime desidero! Cross-posted from Myspace: Danyell wrote: "Everyone has a stump, where something vital has been removed . . . I have a stump where my ability to commit to one way of feeling about something forever was ripped out. I thank the Gods it was, I don't want to be complete. Complete people don't seek for completion in art, in books, in love, in sex, in children . . . Where is your stump? What vital piece did they remove from you? I can't stick to anyone, anything, anyplace, I always leave, I always give up,and someday I'll fucking die too! I lack "forever" so I live every second, I never, ever, cease. I eat up life with feverish desire, I love harder and more foolishly than most, I'm a glutton, and I never think ahead. I live right now. What do you lack and what do you do to replace it? . . . I'm not just asking, I really want to know. What makes you incomplete? What makes you one of the people I'm in love with?" Not an easy question to answer, by any means. And as with any question of self-relection, there's a massive amount of self-deception one must wade through to get to true answers (and how can you tell when you're really on the other side?). I've been "tagged" to answer this; the tragedy of that is that I've already done so many times, throughout this journal and others, and it seems silly to do it again like this. Self-reflection and self-knowledge are continual processes for me, every moment of every day, it's hard to switch gears to try to nail down an aspect like this - rather like trying to nail down part of a flowing river. Heraclitus meets Socrates (or at least the Delphic oracle), "Panta rhei" meets "gnothi seauton." Additionally, writing here implies a heavy degree of dramatic irony - as in the epitaph of Sir Christopher Wren, "lector, si monumentum requiris, circumspice." Quid aliud iam dicam? Maybe more later. I remember that a few years ago I had a discussion with a dear friend of mine, Tracy, about the extinction of languages. I remember vaugely that I had said something about the accelerating rate of language death being "unfortunate," and Tracy asked me why I thought so. I didn't explain very well what I was thinking, but I remember saying something about my concept of the linguistic ecology of the planet, and that having a healthy pool of languages is as importamt to my mind as having a healthy gene pool. Anyway, I'm reading this wonderful little book, "Resurrecting Hebrew" by Ilan Stavans, about the emergence of the "modern Hebrew" language now used by the state of Israel from the formerly "dead" holy language of Biblical Hebrew (incidentally, I can think of few things that would make me happier than to see Latin similarly resurrected - yes, I know I'm dreaming). Anyway, in the book there's a passage in which the author is discussing with someone the Babel incident in Genesis (which I recently re-read in the Vulgate, incidentally). Anyway, the author asks, "Is polyglotism not a blessing?" and is answered: "Of course it is . . . not only for the Jews, but for the entire human race. For anyone who loves languages, the more of them that are spoken and written on the face of the earth the better, and one can only grieve over the rapid extinction in our times of so many languages, each one of which is a precious world in itself." I think that says it beautifully. |
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