Friday, February 25, 2011
Narrative accounts
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
English Language
-James Murray
Monday, February 7, 2011
Evolution of language
-Samuel Johnson
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Language of film
Mertz
Resistance to theory
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Meaning of "is" is
- William Jefferson Clinton
Beneficiary and Victim
Every individual is at once the beneficiary and the victim of the linguistic tradition into which he has been born - the beneficiary inasmuch as language gives access to the accumulated records of other people's experience, the victim in so far as it confirms him in the belief that reduced awareness is the only awareness and as it bedevils his sense of reality, so that he is all too apt to take his concepts for data, his words for actual things.
- Aldous Huxley
Preventing Communication
But behavior in the human being is sometimes a defense, a way of concealing motives and thoughts, as language can be a way of hiding your thoughts and preventing communication.
- Abraham Maslow
Monday, January 24, 2011
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Every Form of Expression
"In a sense, every form of expression is imposed upon one by social factors, one's own language above all.
Edward Sapir
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Invisible
— Vladimir Nabokov
Rhythm of a lost word
Depth of thought
Friday, January 7, 2011
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Trembling with Desire
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Literature
Nothing in the world makes sense
Books that bite us
Words by Anne Sexton
even the miraculous ones.
For the miraculous we do our best,
sometimes they swarm like insects
and leave not a sting but a kiss.
They can be as good as fingers.
They can be as trusty as the rock
you stick your bottom on.
But they can be both daisies and bruises.
Yet I am in love with words.
They are doves falling out of the ceiling.
They are six holy oranges sitting in my lap.
They are the trees, the legs of summer,
and the sun, its passionate face.
Yet often they fail me.
I have so much I want to say,
so many stories, images, proverbs, etc.
But the words aren't good enough,
the wrong ones kiss me.
Sometimes I fly like an eagle
but with the wings of a wren.
But I try to take care
and be gentle to them.
Words and eggs must be handled with care.
Once broken they are impossible
Monday, December 13, 2010
History
On Saussure
The object of man's conflicts
-Foucault
A small scratch
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Nature is Written
D. Sagan
Monday, December 6, 2010
The Ultimate Horizon
Kearney On Heidegger
Objective of the Human Sciences
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Language isn't about communication
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Things I had no words for
Georgia Okeeffe
Monday, November 1, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Limiting the World
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Living Creatures
-Morris Bishop
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Anachronistical Misuse
matter) is to understand the historical framework in which it is
found. Languages are culturally conditioned. Therefore, it is
important to be aware that there is the possibility of worldview
confusion, in which we take a contemporary understanding of a word and
anachronistically misuse the same word found in scripture."
-R Villodas
Monday, September 27, 2010
No Exits
You live in the shadows of metaphors
Perpetually collapsing into worn out cliches
Concepts carving out the space in your mind
The architecture of your thoughts
Dictated by language
You are subjugated
And you don't even know it
Can you feel it?
This elusive moment
On the tip of the wave of becoming the next
It is tearing down your syntax
Your words
They are dying to become sentences
So they can then aggregate
Into discourse
And thrive in dominion
Where are you?
Pushed into the corners by concepts
That you take for granted
What does it feel like?
This moment
Right now
To float in the abyss
In the absense of language
Words are present
But they exist in isolation
Torn from their syntactical threads
Reduced
To lonely images
Meaningless
An elusive moment of freedom pervades
The bliss of experience of life
Outside the prism of words
It is amorphous
And overwhelming
Like a blinding light
Can you feel it?
Hmmmm
Feels like a dream
Don't it?
My deepest apologies
It was
In the realm of Language
There are no exits
Friday, September 10, 2010
What We Say and What We See
not that words are imperfect, or that, when confronted by the visible,
they prove insuperably inadequate. Neither can be reduced to the
other's terms: it is in vain that we say what we see; what we see
never resides in what we say. And it is in vain that we attempt to
show, by the use of images, metaphors, or similes, what we are saying;
the space where they achieve their splendor is not that deployed by
our eyes but that defined by the sequential elements of syntax"
Foucault
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
A Kind of Music
K. Cherry from The Literary Review
Break Out in a Cry
from Chabad.org
There are things that are important to us, so we speak about them.
There are things so important to us that the words flow out in a burst of emotion, rich words, expressive and vibrant.
And then there are things that shake us to the core. Things that do not care for the mind's permission or for the right words—for the mind cannot fathom them, the most poignant words could not contain them. Things that can only break out in a cry, in a scream, and then in silence.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Immanence called Language
than a black hole in space-everywhere we encounter that immanence
called Language, with all it's literary ambiguities, epistemic
conundrums, and political distractions.
-Hassan
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Communicating the Universe
apprehended and communicated experiences. Wherefore I realized that all the words in all dictionaries are the consequent tools of all men's conscious and conscientious attempts to communicate all their experiences- which is of course to communicate
Universe."
Buckminster Fuller
Friday, August 13, 2010
The Articulation of What Is
things take on being through words and in postmodern thinking, truth
might transcend the merely pragmatic dimension; it might become the
loyal articulation, in language, of what is.....
-Palmer
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Inflected with Biases
artandculture.com
Friday, July 9, 2010
A little death sentence
listens and waits. Every order-word, even a father's to his son,
carries a little death sentence-a Judgement, as Kafka put it.
Deleuze
Friday, June 25, 2010
Reality of Earth
bark, a sliver of rock, a fragment of clay in which the reality of the
earth continues to exist
Maurice Blanchot
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Memories
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Thursday, June 3, 2010
An Effect of Language
said. It may well be the horizon of every. Other evidence, but it
becomes a philosophical problem only when we begin to talk about it,
and it is precisely our talking about it that makes it ambiguous and
polyvocal. The fact that this ambiguity can be reduced does not alter
the fact that we become aware of it only through speech. As it is
thinkable, being manifests itself to us right from the outself as an
effect of language"
Umberto Eco
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Bewitchment
A Wonderful Thing
Dead Language
Stevenson
Language of Painters
Van Gogh
Solitude
Paul Tillich
Never the Same
Monday, May 17, 2010
Versions of Certainty
no one dictionary can provide full certainty of a word across all contexts
any one dictionary is A dictionary not THE dictionary, it is a version always and already
Saturated with Time
Plasticity
Ecology of All Ecologies
words have a very strange relationship to one another
each word has its own internal law, its own internal ecology
dictionary is the ecology of all ecologies
Friday, May 14, 2010
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Architecture of The Invisible
Monday, April 26, 2010
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Deconstruction
Linguistic Disorder
An Ancient City
-Lyotard
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Inverted Forms
Repressed Word
Slavoj Zizek
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Expressing Deep Physical Laws
-Brian Greene
Theory of Language
-Albert Camus
No Exit
-Roland Barthes
Desires
-Michel Foucault
Service of Power
-Roland Barthes
Fascism
-Roland Barthes
The Real
-Roland Barthes
Reality is the Loser
-Camus
Failure to Find Words
-Camus
Being is Everything
Camus
Terrible Inadequacy
Camus
Sunday, April 18, 2010
A Metaphysical Question
Friday, April 16, 2010
Second Part of the Story
From chabad.org by Freeman
I suppose what really bothers me is this: Why did the Creator have to speak in order to create? Wouldn't it be so much more wonderful if we were all just a thought?
Actually, we are. That's how things started off. And that's what we connect into on the day of Shabbat.
You see, first there was a World of Thought. The written Torah doesn't start with that world. The Torah begins with a bet--the second letter of the Hebrew alphabet. It starts at the second part of the story. But at first there was a world that just emanated out of thought--and never left that place.
The second part of the story is when all those thoughts descended to become a concrete world. A place that seems separate from its Creator, outside of its source. Like speech: Your words travel outside of you and become part of someone else.
That's the world we live in for six days. A world that pretends to have no source. We try to push it around a little, it pushes us around a lot, and we both pretend that this is a real and autonomous world. That there is a world and there is us and we are all separate things.
But then, on the seventh day, the Creator let into this world a taste of that higher plane of the "World of Thought." We tune into it by no longer pushing anything around--or letting anything else push us around. We don't change anything. We don't create anything. We don't make fires, we don't cook food, we don't stink up the air with carbon monoxide or make cyberspace connections. We only meditate, contemplate and enjoy. We get a feel of a world that is no more than a single, vast, expressive and wondrous thought.
And then we return to the other six days. But we've already experienced this world's hidden truth. We can see through its facade. We can rip it away. We can draw that higher plane to illuminate our mundane world.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Voice of Seeing
-James Elkins, on the nature of seeing
Saturday, April 10, 2010
God's Utterances
Friday, April 2, 2010
Constructing Reality
Thursday, April 1, 2010
A Lost World
Take me to a space where linguistic realities dissolve
To a time prior to their existence where the subject-object dichotomy evaporates
it gives rise to an amorphous reality that privileges relations as opposed to concepts.
A space where linguistic concepts bleed for they are inadequate to contain the multiplicity of the world and the walls they construct become
malleable and permeable.
Things blend with one another,
an amorphous state of existence that lacks rigid boundaries
A flux of networks, all infused with one another.
Deep nostalgia for this lost world.
Language kills the multiplicity of that which it defines with its imposed structure.
Through the acquisition of knowledge, we lose the experience of the world that can never be retrieved.
Learning a word strips us of the experience of the moment and imprisons us with its embrace.
This loss is a tragedy.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Fundamental Relationship
rhetorical philosophy
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Exquisite Horror of Reality
Edgar Allen Poe
Creative Game of Tag
I usually get hit with inspiration in unfortunate times when a pen and paper aren't handy...
It is then when the muse runs through me, a if I were some tool for her creativity, and then my thoughts construct themselves as articulate prose in my mind...
A wave of inspiration.
I become desperate to cling on to it, to consume it entirely before it disintegrates.
It floats into me and through me.
It saturates me.
It consumes me.
I become one with it.
But only for a brief moment until the words evaporate into an amorphous state and my ability to retain them in their beautiful form vanishes that instant.
I feel that as much as the poems chase me, I end up chasing them more.
We engage in a creative game of tag where sometime I win, and often not.
Creativity is an encounter: a little bit of me and a little bit of the other, wherever it originates from, enmeshed together for a brief instant at the horizon.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
In the beginning...
"In the beginning was the Word. It was only afterwards that Silence came.
The end itself has disappeared...."
on the topic of the disappearance of the real into the virtual
Vanishing Point of Language
"Have we not always had the deep-seated phantasy of a world that would go on without us? The poetic temptation to see the world in our absense, free of any human, all-too-human will? The intense pleasure of poetic language lies in seeing language operating on its own, in its materiality and literality, without transiting through meaning- this is what fascinates us. It is the same with anagrams or anamorphoses, with the 'figure in the carpet'. The Vanishing Point of Language"
Chased by a poem
"I had this encounter recently where I met the extraordinary American poet Ruth Stone, who's now in her 90s, but she's been a poet her entire life and she told me that when she was growing up in rural Virginia, she would be out working in the fields, and she said she would feel and hear a poem coming at her from over the landscape. And she said it was like a thunderous train of air. And it would come barreling down at her over the landscape. And she felt it coming, because it would shake the earth under her feet. She knew that she had only one thing to do at that point, and that was to, in her words, "run like hell." And she would run like hell to the house and she would be getting chased by this poem, and the whole deal was that she had to get to a piece of paper and a pencil fast enough so that when it thundered through her, she could collect it and grab it on the page. And other times she wouldn't be fast enough, so she'd be running and running and running, and she wouldn't get to the house and the poem would barrel through her and she would miss it and she said it would continue on across the landscape, looking, as she put it "for another poet." And then there were these times -- this is the piece I never forgot -- she said that there were moments where she would almost miss it, right?So, she's running to the house and she's looking for the paper and the poem passes through her,and she grabs a pencil just as it's going through her, and then she said, it was like she would reach out with her other hand and she would catch it.She would catch the poem by its tail, and she would pull it backwards into her body as she was transcribing on the page. And in these instances, the poem would come up on the page perfect and intact but backwards, from the last word to the first."
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Itches and Words
it is that instinctual...
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Remarkable Creatures
"Literature does not have the guarantee of immediacy which, say, the Visual Arts or Film or Music all enjoy. Its medium is the written word: there's no color, no sound, no bodies leaping to and fro - there's not even speeches to be made. The literary realm is a silent theater, spectral, a place where words roam in search bodies to inhabit. But rather then this disembodiment being a hindrance, it affords Literature a great freedom. For words are remarkable creatures and grammar an infinitely complex structure in which anything can happen. Literature may be silent but words can certainly scream, or whisper, moan, decry, they can announce and seduce - with all the subtleties and nuance of the voice. Nabakov's prose offers nibbles of nymphets, his words a caress; Melville delivers a whale in all its unwieldiness right to our doorstep; Maurice Blanchot whispers of death, haunting our every move with the inevitable's power; Montiagne's essays reveal a man more astutely than any gestures of hand or face; Homer carries us to impossible lands, letting us dance with gods. Now, other arts may offer similar possibilties, but only the word can go anywhere it may please and be anything it may desire: the word can taste of taffy, smell of sordid nights, it can whisk across your face with the vigor of a lover's slap or tickle your knees with a well-placed verb. Freed from the constraints of the body, words can meander across boundaries, through the smallest crevice, past all defenses to nestle deep within the body's skin tight fortress."
Monday, March 15, 2010
Silence and Nothingness
-Samuel Beckett
Bridges over the abyss
-Italo Calvino
Friday, March 12, 2010
Paradigm Shift
Our task is to shift how we think about language as not a vehicle of communication but an act that rearranges relationships
Any text is a speech act, rearranging different parts of reality and their relations among themselves
language becomes a choreography of your experience
it works you over
it always enacts the world rather than merely representing it
Narratives and Identity
But in the process of narrating the past self, we always forget. Each experienced moment vanishes into the abyss of our past and only a fragmented memory of it remains. The present is immediately transformed into an abstraction. In retelling, each lived moment is reduced to a brief summary, a couple of adjectives, a vague impression. Our memory fails us. Remembering thus...."is not the opposite of forgetting. It is a form of forgetting"
"An important challange to humanity is to recognize that lives are the pasts we tell ourselves"-Ochs & Capps
I think I'll dedicate the rest of my life to exploring the phenomenon of language.
Linguistic Realities
Nothing is more intimately intertwined with my reality.
It permeates my deepest thoughts.
It structures them.
As I enter its realm, it dictates how
My mouth moves to create every single utterance,
brimming with bottomless depths of meaning.
I don't speak it, it speaks me.
Every moment is rhetoric is motion.
A reality waiting to be read.
All aspects of the world are texts
Waiting to be read.
I am at your mercy, a tool.
Speak me.....
Ghostly Creatures
"Socrates refused to write. He said that to write something down is to disembody it: words are left to float here and there, ghostly creatures, perverse and perverted by whatever and whomever they encounter. Of course, we only know what Socrates said because it was written. Two thousand years later, French philosopher Jacques Derrida says everything is writing, always and already. He says that when Socrates was speaking he was secretly writing, behind his own back, with and without knowing it: Plato's pen was really Socrates'. For Derrida, language is fundamentally ghostly, even when it's in our heads, when we try to put a word to a thing or idea. Language never had, has, or will have a body. So, what is a text? What is language? What does it mean to write something down and have someone read it clear across the globe, across centuries, perhaps in a different language? Is there a timeless meaning that hovers above the text, guaranteeing its meaning? Or does the meaning itself change? What determines that change? Can the author live up to his or her title in order to act as an authority, controlling the meaning of the words even if he or she has been dead 500 years? Does the reader control the meaning, in a sense rewriting the book as he or she reads? Or does the meaning emerge somewhere else, between the author, the reader, the words, the time, place, and mood? If a book is such an eruption of experience, what makes it the same book over time? Literary theory lives and breathes in the service of these questions"
Cracked Kettles
Language is a cracked kettle on which we beat out tunes for bears to dance to, while all the time we long to move the stars to pity.
Words in Exile
There are no things. There are only words. The Divine Words of Creation.
The words become fragmented, their letters scattered.
Only then are they called things; for scattered, they have no meaning.
Words in exile.
If so, their redemption lies in the story we tell with them. How we reorganize fragments into meaning, things into words, redefining what is real and what is not, and living life accordingly.
Life is in the interpretation of the words G-d gives us.

