From: Sly
An excerpt (from And Now We Are Going to Have a Party): “I imagined the officer nodding self-importantly and reporting to his commander, later, “…and so we forded the river, which locals hereabouts call the River Water…” And, just like that, history to me was no longer what you found in history books, but was thronged with real people. Words assumed hidden power; I began to understand them as keys to the puzzle of the universe.”
That’s so interesting thanks for posting this I really love this part. Among other things I got from the piece, the names of towns and that is probably how whiskey got the name of “fire water”. Well that’s what I thought of when I read about how the word whiskey was created.
I’m not so sure about figuring out the puzzle of the universe using words but I do think knowing how words came to be adds a great deal towards understanding and sharing verbal and written communication. I love learning about the beginnings of things.
I’m glad you liked it. Words are tremendously powerful. They carry layers and depths of meaning that resonate far beyond the surface syllables. They shouldn’t be used carelessly. That’s why insults like cunt, nigger, bitch, raghead and so on are so incendiary. I don’t allow their use in my house, except in this kind of conversation. I remember that scene towards the end of Aliens where Ripley is in the big full-body waldo suit and she shouts, “Get away from her you bitch!” It very nearly ruined the film for me. Such a blatant anti-woman insult being used in that context… Ooof. My stomach squeezed. Everyone in the audience cheered and I literally felt sick; I felt as though they were all cheering about seeing a female get whipped, simply because she was female, not because she was a vicious murderous, y’know, alien.
Extreme? Maybe. But I felt what I felt. And I felt a version of that tonight watching the first two eps of Season Two of Boston Legal. I was sickened by the depiction of women. David Kelley is seriously crap at writing female characters but this was a new low even for him. Ugh. Because I’ve enjoyed the Shatner/Spader banter in previous episodes I’ll watch the rest of this disk but if it doesn’t improve, that’s it for me.
It’s weird. I go through phases where racism, misogyny, homophobia (et cetera–and, oh, there are so very many ceteras) don’t bother me that much. I shrug, think, That’s life, and go about my business. But this week, for some reason, the unfairness of the world is really getting to me.
I can only assume other people go through this, too, but, wow, it’s really, really tedious to feel so thin-skinned. So here’s a question: how does everyone else self-soothe? Ignore the world and eat ice cream? Turn up the music and dance? Pick a fight with an irritating stranger? (That’s a bad habit of mine. I thought I’d grown out of it but then a little while ago, at a Patricia Barber show, I nearly punched a man in the face…) Anyway, I’m open to suggestions. Don’t want to go to jail…
I spent years of my life proudly thinking of myself as thick-skinned. After all, it takes a bit to get up every day when you know you’re going to be harassed, chased by cars, or possibly beaten for being visibly queer.This recent primary season, though, really made me angry. I saw the misogyny that Hillary had to endure on a daily basis, even by her Democratic opponents, and I felt sick to my stomach. It brought everything front and center. Even my own 75-year old mother was speaking against her as though it were obvious that a woman had no right or place to be running for president. At first, I’d pick fights with people, and when that didn’t work, I sought solace in friends and my partner. When I became confident that I wasn’t alone in how I felt, it calmed me and gave me enough hope to begin wheedling away at my mother in words she could relate to. I think I’m beginning to make some progress…but it’s slow. Although arguing with strangers gave me instant gratification, it didn’t last because I didn’t change their minds in the end. Rather, I came off as arrogant and whiney. It took me a while, but after I showed my mother that I knew what I was talking about I compassionately and slowly started to argue my case. I do this frequently.THEN I have ice cream.With raspberries.
Yep, the world just gets *in* sometimes. But berries, yum. I love blackberries, with apples, in a crumble, with cream. Lots of cream.
After spending enough years with a wife who has a very politically incorrect sense of humor, I’ve found myself laughing at things that used to make me mad and leave me mad for months. I often remember what Robert Heinlein wrote in <>Stranger in a Strange Land<>: “Man is the animal that laughs.” And why does he laugh? “Because it hurts so much.” If you choose to follow the path of laughter, you may want to watch < HREF="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h67k9eEw9AY" REL="nofollow">George Carlin on Soft Language.<>If it hurts so much you are unable to laugh, pie is good. Or reading/ watching /listening to something that restores a bit of hope in humankind. I’m utterly pessimistic, but there are a few things and people that do lift me up. <>Good Omens<> by Gaiman and Pratchett, < HREF="http://www.andreagibson.org/poems/poems.html" REL="nofollow"> Andrea Gibson<>… I’ll have to think harder and come back with an “Agents of Hope” list after I get my dose of caffeine.
The world is a much better place with you in it, Janine. Thanks from every last one of us for trying and keep on trying, ok?Same goes for you Katrina and telling us to remember to laugh. Laugh until it hurts and then go have pie.And thanks to no pants for the lovely summer memory of berries and cream!
That’s it!Y’all are making me hungry!.walks outside to pick raspberries.mmm. lots of cream!Anonymous, thank you so much for your lovely words.Everyone’s invited over for berries ‘n cream.
I think you’re right on with your visceral reaction to “bitch.” I have worked hard to not use such terms and now am getting pretty good. Its hearing this word and all of the other used so freely in our culture that continuously reminds me of the hatred of the female identity that is so much a part of us. What I do is not accept those words in my presence whenever safely possible. I usually say something like, “I don’t care for those words and I would appreciate it if you’d not use them.” The more I practice assertive non-tolerance the better I’m getting. I think, though, that I may be on the same wave-length with you about sometimes just wanting to punch somebody out. As for self soothing, being assertive in general has greatly helped to calm me. Changing my outlook of life and my role in it was probably the biggest factor in the coming of the calmness. Otherwise- its ice cream. duff
I distinctly remember hearing that line from Ripley like it was a slap on the face; I hated it. Then I just tried to tell myself that she had found the true meaning of the word instead of what it normally means.For self-soothing, I practice a form of energy work on myself. I can even do it a little in the car on my way home after a stressful day; I can really feel the difference.Another favorite is sitting outside watching the sun set -sometimes lately with a drink in hand…
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So we’re looking at peace, sugar, and alcohol so far. All good.I like to go sit by the Sound and watch the water, but sometimes, especially when school’s out, there are too many screaming children and harassed parents. I also like to sit on the deck in the sun, feel the sun pushing through my skin to muscle. One of the reasons yesterday was so hard was that the sun went away. No solar massage :(But today the sun’s out again. Today I had a real massage, too. Today I ate a delicious piece of chicken with homemade coleslaw followed by tea and a biscuit. In the sun. Today I feel so much better. Back to shrugging and thinking, eh, when the world throws a stone (or curveball, or insult, or, well, pick your metaphor).
Bird voices and leaf sound soothes me. I had a curious new form of detachment arise two days ago when faced with, well, what: cluelessness I guess. I think it fits in with this discussion. I’m being published locally lately, an occasional column in a weekly newspaper that is bringing quite a lot of attention to my usually quiet life. Much of that is good: bank tellers describing what my writing makes them think, old friends pushing tables aside to kiss me on the cheek and say thanks. And then this fellow I don’t know very well deciding to give me his take on writing and life and art and creativity…and blah, blah, outside the coffeehouse before I’d had tea. I know lots of ways to derail boring boys–I learned on fire crew to cut it short–but this snuck up on me so I’m standing there on one leg, then the other, and then it was like those banner headlines that pass across the bottom of the screen on news channels. “Blowhard…dipshit…fool…” Not the kind of feeling or language I generally use. But I just watched the words going by while awaiting a break in his monologue to excuse myself more kindly. Watching the word go by was a bit better than numbing up or smacking him, I think. Marginally anyway. He wasn’t using foul language which is actually easier for me to object to; he was just being too in love with his own voice. Well, I don’t have minutes to re-read this. I apologize for clumsiness. Thanks for the discussion.
Interesting that this post generated so many heartfelt comments. Good group out there…I work in a world where I see people everyday with far less than most of the rest of us who are often blind to their own privilege. Its difficult seeing others whose lives have irrevocably turned the wheel in a moment through no fault of their own…a drunk driver, an angry spouse who has beat a mate into tetrapleglia,ALS that ravages a brillant and beautiful woman…I could go on but will not. It’s a long list.Nobody gets a “pass in life.” But, I just hope that I have made some small difference to others in what I can give of my knowledge and service. I go home and get a kiss-kiss from my dog,curl up with a cat and a book,play my guitar and sing a song meant for only me to hear,listen to music, or I go out to my yard and work my hands in the dirt or prune roses. And I write…for my eyes only.I have a cottonwood tree. Its leaves sound like rippling water and remind me of childhood camping trips on the Llano river. I planted it years ago knowing its leaves would sound that way. I really love that tree. It soothes me.At the end of the day I really do give thanks for my blessings,my family, and good health. I live a very simple life and after 60+ years I really ask for no more. It’s enough. But I am open to sharing. :)Hmmm. Berries…make it fresh strawberry shortcake with whipped topping and I’m there! I’ll even bring it!
anonymous, bird voices and leaf sounds, yes. We live by a ravine full of trees. When no one is mowing their lawn or building a new garage (sigh) we hear wind in the trees all the time. Lovely. And congrats on the writing. I hope the recognition is more joy than hassle most of the time.linda, y’know I’ve never understood the attraction of strawberry shortcake. I know lots o’ people like it, it’s just never floated my boat. Now strawberries and cream, with a delicious champagne…
@Linda. Your remarks bring to mind lovely Buddhist concepts about Right Speech. And yes to cottonwood trees! We kids knicked a root when we were digging a hole-in-the-ground/plywood fort in our Phoenix backyard and a brand new cottonwood tree grew and grew near the irrigation ditch. I’d stand on a shed top and put my face in its laughing leaves. I loved that tree. Thanks for the reminder.@Nicola. Funny how those lawn mowers show up when I’m just about to lean into a cup of tea! Your blog and Kelley’s arrived under my nose last October, I think, inside of considerable tumult. I think reading and writing with both of you and your readers saved part of me that was going numb. It is a joy to love filling pages again for myself and for public consumption. Thanks.
jean, you are so welcome. Joy is a precious commodity, but fortunately it tends to breed with others’ joy :)
jean r said… @Linda. “Your remarks bring to mind lovely Buddhist concepts about Right Speech.” …I will take a leap of good faith and assume that you meant the postive construct of Right Speech… :)