Tuesday, January 22, 2019

the chasms between....

Again, as occasionally in the past, it re-occurs to me that those who teach philosophy are frequently dubbed "philosophers" where their counterparts in other disciplines are simply "biology teachers" or "physics teachers" or "sociology teachers." Odd to think, somehow.

My mother, for example was a writer.

My father taught things about writers -- most frequently, if he could -- about James Joyce whom he adored. If nothing else, I can imagine such a schism as being reason enough for the divorce that the two of them indulged. Imagine being a writer talking to someone who talked about writing but whose writing seemed to indicate someone dedicated to complexity as art.

It takes balls to be a writer and my mother had balls ... and paid the price for owning them.

Read Kent Haruff's "Plainsong" if you want to know writing. Or early Thornton Wilder. Or others here and there who blaze with a simplicity whose prices cannot be capsuled. Like ol' e e cummings:

Buffalo Bill ’s
               who used to
               ride a watersmooth-silver
and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlikethat

he was a handsome man 
                                                  and what i want to know is
how do you like your blue-eyed boy
Mister Death

No one can teach handsomeness, nor shoulder its prices. Jesus!

Getting blood from a stone is child's play by comparison.

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