Monday, March 22, 2004

'The old knot of contrariety' And while we're considering the reflective life, the musing life, the self-conscious life (OK, I was considering it -- you don't have to), there's this from Walt Whitman: "It is not upon you alone the dark patches fall, The dark threw patches down upon me also; The best I had done seem’d to me blank and suspicious; My great thoughts, as I supposed them, were they not in reality meagre? It is not you alone who know what it is to be evil; I am he who knew what it was to be evil; I too knitted the old knot of contrariety, Blabb’d, blush’d, resented, lied, stole, grudg’d, Had guile, anger, lust, hot wishes I dared not speak, Was wayward, vain, greedy, shallow, sly, cowardly, malignant; The wolf, the snake, the hog, not wanting in me, The cheating look, the frivolous word, the adulterous wish, not wanting, Refusals, hates, postponements, meanness, laziness, none of these wanting. I was call’d by my nighest name by clear loud voices of young men as they saw me approaching or passing, Felt their arms on my neck as I stood, or the negligent leaning of their flesh against me as I sat, Saw many I loved in the street, or ferry-boat, or public assembly, yet never told them a word, Lived the same life with the rest, the same old laughing, gnawing, sleeping, Play’d the part that still looks back on the actor or actress, The same old role, the role that is what we make it, as great as we like, Or as small as we like, or both great and small. " "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry" 11:35:43 PM    comment []

Long time, no blog On the eve of the two-week-iversary of my last post, let me ask, where was I? I can't remember, really. There was something going on before our German exchange student (Gregor) arrived (from Darmstadt); and before Kate and I spent a week painting our dining room and hallway and bathroom; but I forget what. Two observations, though: It's no wonder that so many people start these damned things and then quit them after just a few months (that's the conclusion of a widely quoted software company study. If you care to write something that might please your nonexistent audience, this takes time. And life is sure to intervene with its niggling little demands. I'm in a state of constant minor, irritated awe at people who appear to lead lives and accomplish something more than the usual breathing/eating/working/sleeping that most of us struggle to get through -- and still post about 12 times a day on their blawwwwgs. On the other hand: As far as starting blogs and quitting them, is there really anything at all unexpected about that? There's a pretty good trade in paper diaries and journals; plain ones, fancy ones, lined ones and unlined ones. But how many of them are ever opened more than once or twice for the painful self-conscious scrawl before the would-be diarist remembers that watching "Green Acres" reruns is less demanding or maybe even more fulfilling? I don't have the abandoned journal stats at my fingertips, but I'll bet you could fill several world-class libraries, or landfills, with the barely begun daily musings of John and Jane Q. Doe, deeply reflective citizens of the world. Which means there's nothing about blogs that makes them tough to keep up, and lots about the press of daily life and the awkward reality of running into your own thoughts while you're staring at an empty space just waiting to receive your musings, tales, insights, prose mastery -- heck, your all-around brilliance. And with that, I have now filled my empty space for the day, and the "Seinfeld" rerun about the loaf of rye bread is on. Good night. 11:14:16 PM    comment []

© Copyright 2004 Dan Brekke.