thoughts and generations of my dreams are yet unborn...
...my hands are moving faster, than the movement of my mind...
It is still early October. Two months ago, roughly, my life and schedule changed in some of the most dramatic ways possible. It began with a phase of tiredness, of anger, of mania, and now, now it has begun to settle rather dramatically.
I am tired, I am haggard. I feel like quoting those beginning lines of Dostoevsky's Notes from Underground often.
Lately I have been working toward a synthesis of understanding. I am in a dialectical process of trying to examine what is universal and what are enduring themes and contrast them with day-to-day specifics and minutia. As I read somewhere recently, if one had been able to reflect on the 20th century today, as compared to say, in 1968, the importance on what matters would change. Orwell somewhat addressed this in an essay I read years ago, but I forget which. There is, thus, that tension in how and when we are evaluating things. For better or for worse, at this moment, 11/9/2001 still looms large on the American psyche and indeed worldwide. But, in say 100 years from now, will it still seem to be the singular moment of change we view it to be now?
Also, the concept of sounds, of phonetics and phonology has been on my mind.
Part of all these changes and synthesizing is ending my period of social isolation. I am getting busy living. It has, somewhat, affected my workload, my downtime, the ability to sit and read and reflect.
Life is good, and it is moving in many directions. Tomorrow this day will matter. It may go on mattering for a long period of time. But, say in 2012, in 2013, etc, will the 9th of October 2011 truly matter? Hardly.
But it will still be a stepping stone, a microcosm of what was and what will be.
It is still early October. Two months ago, roughly, my life and schedule changed in some of the most dramatic ways possible. It began with a phase of tiredness, of anger, of mania, and now, now it has begun to settle rather dramatically.
I am tired, I am haggard. I feel like quoting those beginning lines of Dostoevsky's Notes from Underground often.
Lately I have been working toward a synthesis of understanding. I am in a dialectical process of trying to examine what is universal and what are enduring themes and contrast them with day-to-day specifics and minutia. As I read somewhere recently, if one had been able to reflect on the 20th century today, as compared to say, in 1968, the importance on what matters would change. Orwell somewhat addressed this in an essay I read years ago, but I forget which. There is, thus, that tension in how and when we are evaluating things. For better or for worse, at this moment, 11/9/2001 still looms large on the American psyche and indeed worldwide. But, in say 100 years from now, will it still seem to be the singular moment of change we view it to be now?
Also, the concept of sounds, of phonetics and phonology has been on my mind.
Part of all these changes and synthesizing is ending my period of social isolation. I am getting busy living. It has, somewhat, affected my workload, my downtime, the ability to sit and read and reflect.
Life is good, and it is moving in many directions. Tomorrow this day will matter. It may go on mattering for a long period of time. But, say in 2012, in 2013, etc, will the 9th of October 2011 truly matter? Hardly.
But it will still be a stepping stone, a microcosm of what was and what will be.