the curse of the alethe (sp).

We generally think of unforgetting as a good thing. Something to strive for and if we gain it we will be better off. Yes, with enough unforgetting we might even become gods. Or will we? Here is a story about a very interesting case. A woman plagued with unforgetting.

Story from Wired.com

Is our position determined by our level of remembrance? OR have we been given the gift of forgetting?

first book.

Do you remember your first book? Do you remember the feeling of the binding in your hands and the smell of the pages?



Well...

Books are metamorphic. You can revisit a book that you have read a hundred times, and the hundred and first time that your eyes scan the words – they change. I was curious. After fourteen years I was curious about a book that I found in the youth section all that time ago.

We had a tradition in my family – in order to get the privilege of having a library card, we had to first read a book, cover to cover, to our mom. I went to the brick colored building downtown, walked to the eye-level shelfs and grabbed the one. It was called “Bored Nothing to Do,” and it had an airplane on the front – I was instantly hooked. I sat down with my mom at home and read slowly over each word, each sentence, translating the print into imagination as two boys built an airplane from common household items.

As far as I was concerned, the words had a performative effect on me. When the two boys became bored with all their toys, so did I; when they were scared that their dad would catch them pulling the engine and gas tank out of his VW beetle, I was scared too. I was completely empathetic as my mind rose to meet their makeshift plane – our mom, I mean their mom, yelled at us to come down. What a kill joy.

The morning was warmer than the weather report predicted it being. I was on a mission and jumped out of the car as my mom yelled a question about needing a ride home. I shook my head and told her I would walk. The brick building smelled the same, it looked the same, my legs almost shrunk as I waited for the automatic door to open. This time however, I was tall enough to reach the computer. I searched for the book in question. In my experience, public library computer searches never work right. I began to sweat. I had one last chance with the lady at the youth reference desk. She looked busy. I swallowed hard and choked back my childish pride to find it on my own. Hi, I said. She looked up at me. I'm looking for a book I told her. She can't find it.

I made some comment about nostalgia and sulked my way upstairs. When I was small, the spiral stairs led to another realm. The upper tiers were reserved for the reading elite and “Bored Nothing to Do” was surely on the first floor. There was a point, a vague shift, where I threw off the robe of the short stacks and climbed the slowly spiraling center piece to the monstrous collection of fiction and computer manuals.

My feet crowned the top stair and I suddenly found myself among the clone shelves of literature. I passed the “H”s – then the “I”s – my stride began to slow without any intervention on my part. I hit the “J”s. By now I was scanning the bindings searching – searching – searching – Joyce! I pull a thick book from a sandwich of Dubliners – in scripted letters the cover read Finnegans Wake. Holding it tightly I walked to the far back corner, far from the other library patrons, where the sun poured in from the south, warming a fake plastic plant.

The story continues.
I bask in the literate tradition.

another example of orality.

As I think back through my weekend I realize that orality shows up everywhere. This has been a main theme of the class and by now it is getting pretty easy to see instances where the typographical tradition is somewhat swamped by the oral thought process.

For example, this weekend I watched the movie "Return to Oz." In many ways it exemplifies the attributes of the oral thought process. In particular, it is very complementary. With the original movie, the relationship between the Rock King and the Emerald City, etc.

This is a pretty creepy movie, but interesting as it takes a lot of elements from 'The Wizard of Oz' and twists them a bit to reveal a darker side to the story.

thoughts about music.

Music, as many of the presentations have addressed, is based strongly in the oral tradition to some degree or another. Specifically thinking of genres, I believe that many styles of jazz have roots that are deeply implanted in the oral thought process. For certain there are styles that are written out, to be followed, and analytical, but there are others that are free and open and flow only with the thoughts and whims of the performers.

Most types of music rely on a set structure. Is this from the oral or literate tradition? To an extent I think it shows the analytical side of music (the 12 bar blues for instance), but at the same time the music (if it is good) is felt, not just played. I think that the emotions that are associated with music are deeply rooted in the right side of the brain and as such are given to the characteristics of the oral tradition.

What about free style rap? Very much a part of the oral tradition? Or are there very analytical thought processes that go on while trying to rhyme phrases of the top of the head.


Gesang ist dasein

Synecdoche.

Last night as I lay in bed at 1:30 my mind raced. I tried to focus. Count slowly... 1... 2... I know I could write about!! no. no. 14... 15... I really want to climb. 16... sheep sheep -- the count ... 17 or 18? or where was I? My mind was having none of it. I decided to just watch a movie till I fell asleep.

So I opened up my 'movies' folder and chose one that I have been meaning to watch for a very long time. It is called Synecdoche, New York. This film is amazing. Throughout the film I felt like crying many times but I was thinking too much, too fast for any tears.

This film should be required material for the course. It is the perfect example of mis-en-abyme. The main character is a director that puts on a production that lasts years, and covers life. Literally normal life, that is played within normal life. As the movie progresses, so do the boxes of narration. Story within story within story within story -- continuous ... forever.

During the whole film the lead character tries to figure out how to do the play right. At one point his true love tells him that "the end is built into the beginning." She dies that night after making love.

This film is beyond brilliant, and I will have to watch it at least a couple more times to appreciate its complexity. Watch it. You won't be dissappointed.

Synecdoche, New York @ IMDB: HERE

My happy plant.

As I have mentions before, I really like the beginning of Kane where he talks about the connections that reside just below the surface in the natural world. We cannot see them but they exist and thrive as the animals seemingly are in a tight bond with the earth. It is staggering at times and yet, can be seen in the simplest of ways.

For example, I have a plant that has been struggling through the winter. Not being particularly good with plants, I assumed it was my ability to care for it and not its environment. At one point I thought that the whole thing was dead, and didn't throw it away only because of a tiny amount of light green that barely rose to the surface of the leaves. Recently however it exploded. Interestingly, it hasn't been excessively sunny or warm. In fact during these spring days while it is snowing and I am grumbling, my plant is raising its leaves high, straining in delight against the soil and the white pot.

My plant knows that it is spring. Maybe it can hear the birds singing in the morning, or feel summer in the few rays of sun, or maybe the earth whispered quietly to it and told it of the warm weather to come, the sunny days and soft spoken nights. Maybe it heard the earth and found the will, the perpetual will of the earth in its 'diurnal course.' Always... constantly...

Snow is in the forecast for tomorrow. Seventy percent chance they say. It is night time. The sun is warming the other side of the globe. Yet my plant is stretching over there, anticipating the weather that is coming, always hoping, always dreaming. It is a reassurance to me as I try not to get bogged down with finals.

Better weather is coming! Life and breath and dream will return once more to this cold valley. With two weeks and lots of work left, the situation can look bleak. But I trust my plant. It knows.



This is definitely not what my plant looks like, but a quick google image search of 'happy plant' gave me this.

Girl Talk as a modern oral kapow!

Girl Talk aka Greg Gillis is a modern day oral storyteller. Some of you may know what I'm talking about, others may not have any idea what Girl Talk is. Greg Gillis is a one man operation that performs under the name Girl Talk. His genre is called Mashup. He takes little bits of modern popular music and creates a continuous, layered, highly danceable song.

Check out a video here: Girl Talk

I had the pleasure of experiencing Girl Talk this winter when he came to Bozeman. It was sure a party to remember and its quality of resonance was very strong. His style of music conveys the oral tradition in that it is holistic, simultaneous and synthetic. As he crafts music together across different genres and decades, a beautiful / organic / synthetic monster ensues.

I strongly recommend checking out Girl Talk. Go first for his album Night Ripper, and then Feed The Animals.