Tuesday, December 2, 2008

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I don't want to discuss Alex Caldiero anymore. In a way it's like we've been discussing him all this time. I personally was discussing him before I ever knew who/what he was. There's too much to be said. There should never be too much to be said. It's impossible to say. What

Speak life? No. But why do you confront and re-confront over and over and never progress? This is what I mean. The conversation was going on for ages before we ever thought to get involved and no one will ever get the last word and the world will stay much the same. And a thousand rapturous puppets will rise up in our absence to parrot what we've already said, or to fill in whatever blanks we've left, and will disappear and make room for the next army of voices without faces.

I am waste and I have nothing more to add. If I ever make another post on Language Scraps, you're welcome to call me a liar. If I ever make another comment in class, feel free to tell me I'm full of shit. To my face. What can I possibly say that my open-mouthed silence won't say better.

....However, I know I won't really be able to leave it alone. Whatever part of me loves the confusion and the futility and the frustration and the humiliation and the repetition and the constant flailing about or steadily moving in a fixed circle will keep coming back for more and more. Sobeit. This class has been absolutely essential and my only gripe is that I'm not required to take it every semester. I don't know why I ever bothered trying to learn anything. Nothing ever stays with me unless it absolutely confounds me to the end of my wits.

8 comments:

Jorgen said...

Well, I have no clue who you are, so I won't even know the difference about whether or not you speak again.

Silence says a lot, but when thirty people in a classroom all remain silent, it probably wouldn't say as much collectively as each of them would wish they were contributing to. I probably talk enough already, but if someone else is going to stop speaking, maybe I'll speak double.

Jungle Survival Camp said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Jorgen said...

I'm not sure, either. But I must say that I personally love the class. They're going to have to teach 3 sections of it a semester to keep up with the word-of-mouth.

Scott Abbott said...

Jorgen and Alec, I think you didn't read this carefully enough. It's craftily crafted, starting off by leading you down the primrose path you both then went down. But notice the subtle shifts that get you to the kind of poetic response the author learned, in part, from Alex. I think it's a beautiful post.

Jorgen said...

Ha, yeah, I was more messing around than anything. And you're right, though, that I didn't read it closely enough.

Jorgen said...

PS: The blog is suddenly alive, again! After a long vacation, too. It's about time.

Jacob I. McMillan said...

I like "craftily crafted". Department of Redundancy Dept.

I'm not entirely sure what I was trying to get at with this post, but sometimes the class feels to me like I'm stuck in that dream where I keep waking up. I'm overwhelmed, but I'm far from satisfied. It's difficult to express/capture. Plus it was 3:30 A.M. when I wrote it.

Jungle Survival Camp said...

Scot your right I did not read it closely enough. Jacob the last paragraph of your post makes me think of my first theory class in college. I was like what what what what what what, perhaps that is similar to the going around and around yet wanting to get more and more out of it. Then it all clicked one after a long talk on derria, and I was like……..fuck, what the fuck have I been doing, shit shit shit shit. And I layed in bed all day. I cried a little to. Then I got on the computer and wrote my teacher. I didn’t know what to do. Language completely collapsed on me. All meaning collapsed on me. I thought I cannot believe what has just happened to me. I had never heard of such a thing happening to someone. I didn’t know such a thing was possible to happen. I still am very much in the aftermath of it all. And every thing I see looks a little odd. Its like meaning opened up to infinity, and all things became new. The air smelled better food smelled better. I went from having no opinions about anything (nothing I would vocalize) to wanting always to vocalize yet realizing I need to be surreptitious. And now I have become this voracious writer, because writing now makes so much sense. I like this new language I have is allowing me to explain all the things I was thinking about and could never explain. And all the anxiety left too. And I sleep better at night. And I find myself smiling laughing so much more. And I look forward to the future, to surprise, and I keep getting surprised I keep figuring out these things I never were possible to figure out. And my writing keeps getting better and better. And I keep having thoughts like maybe this is how to get access to all that brain power people say our brain has the potential for. And I can’t stop reading. And it like I have found books that I never could imagine could be written. And I felt like I was so oppressed for so long . And I was! But I have been freed. I cant believe happened. But I think it did. I mean I feel like it did.