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| Author |
Message |
| 9 new of 33 responses total. |
thanne
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response 25 of 33:
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Apr 27 06:17 UTC 1995 |
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juls
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response 26 of 33:
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Apr 27 15:54 UTC 1995 |
See how those who so oft and long do speak now quail at tossed glove
of prose! Oh, would that they might try their pens at this, and find
such peace and swell in same.
(I oft these days flash on a past life lived with short and half-
baked words -- in fact, I served the Bard, I'm sure, caught up in
this odd stilt of phrase.)
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brighn
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response 27 of 33:
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Apr 27 17:09 UTC 1995 |
The Bard, he drinks too much.
A rose by but a name else than that by which it is called
Would smell of sour and old grapes, or shoes which in the rain
have been soaked (with no faked tone forced by rhyme on that last
word, mind you, for that would break *these* rules... these rules
do bleed those of the bard, and of rhyme)... how are we to know the smell
of the rose which is not so called, for it does not be in the sense of
the rose which is so called... a rose is a rose, and this is the word
which we have picked for it.
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juls
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response 28 of 33:
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Apr 27 22:08 UTC 1995 |
Fain, brighn -- 'tis said in times like these that you can pick a name,
you can pick a rose, you can pick your friends, but you (well, you get
what I mean). . .
To speak to what I THINK you meant (by rules that bleed the rhyme), it is
sure that Art is thought placed in time and space, which do rule in fact
this place that thralls us. The rules are what make the Art, what frame
the heart of surge, of plaint, of wild and mute, both, yea ALL of
what we try to say.
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brighn
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response 29 of 33:
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Apr 28 02:42 UTC 1995 |
(To "bleed" in this sense is a term of science. One rule bleeds the
next is to use the first rule the next can't be used, where it could
be used were not the first used. One rule may too "feed" the next.)
I wrote with speed -- I stopped due to lack of time, not of lack of words.
There is a strict sort of art of word, in which there are to be two lines
of five beats each and twixt these a third line of two more beats. It
is hard for the art to be as neat if it is not as curt as this: it is
the frame, the rule, which makes the art, and the skill with which those who
write such things can write while still in the rules. Just as what we say in
these posts would not be so fine were they not in line with such strict
a rule as we have made. We both do well, I must say... raise a glass with
me, Juls, and make a toast.
Some art is what it is since it makes use of rules and still acts well and
with grace. Some art is what it is since it breaks the rules and still acts
well and with grace. Some art is what it is just since it is. That is all.
Can we be what we are not? And can we say we are what we are not? The Egg
on the wall (till he fell) says that words mean what he says they do, no
more and no less... but such is not the case. What then? The Bard wants
the rose by a name which is not the same to smell the same, but what is
a rose which is not a rose? IT is not right. I know well what the Bard
means, in truth, but I do not go with him. Ben Whorf says it is the word
which makes the thought. Nor do I go with this, but to some length I must
ask, how can we know what a thing is when it is not the thing we think it is?
IT is most deep, this thought. The length of word does not change the
depth of theme (or so I think not).
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juls
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response 30 of 33:
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Apr 28 19:27 UTC 1995 |
In truth the length of word can in fact make MORE deep the theme, if the
length be short. And sharp.
The word makes the thought; the thought forms the word, both are true, and
the rose is a boot is a nose is a car. Still it wafts and lies sweet upon
the mind and heart; what we think it is, or know for truth, is that it
is sweet, no more, no less.
And a draught to thee, as well, fair Brighn!
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brighn
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response 31 of 33:
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Apr 28 21:11 UTC 1995 |
IS ale the drink of choice? A mug for each, and for those who watch, still
mute, a draught as well to each. It may be that a drink of booze will make
some tongues loose in the mouths which jail them. In the words of the
Bard, so changed just to make the rules: "If tunes be the food of love,
play on." -- We have our ale, to drink, let us have more words to eat.
(But not like worms, who eat of books... we make, we do not wipe clean the
slates that came ere us.)
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juls
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response 32 of 33:
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Apr 29 18:41 UTC 1995 |
I think it must be ale or wine or brew for us, dear brighn. Please do
pour one or more for those still lined next the door for fear of
loss of face in this glad game. 'Twill loose their tongues, and make
for good prose with all!
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brighn
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response 33 of 33:
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Apr 29 18:52 UTC 1995 |
I must type slow. There is a bug on my left hand. How cute!
Oh no, he is gone. He fell in twixt the keys, I fear. He may be
crushed. No fears: it is his own fault.
What may we drink? We can choose: beer, ale, wine, tea, joe, Coke, pop,
juice (but of what we may not say), what else? We can not drink that drink
most in the realm of life, writ H with a small two and then an O, for it
is too much work to name it... how odd.
OR do I miss a word that so names it and is of an ease to use?
Ah here it is: thawed ice! <brighn smiles>
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