a Christian Scientist with appendicitis
Jul. 25th, 2008 06:44 amI wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by learning where I have to go.
-Theodore Roethke, "The Waking"
It's funny when literal-minded historians try reading poetry. Understanding the meta in poetry has always been hard for me. So it's like, hard work.
Anyway, something about the poem appeals to me -- I keep turning it over again and again. Something about how discovering death is what makes you alive... but not very much. Which seems about right these days.
Basically, it's very, very bad. I promised not to describe the badness here anymore because I can't really do it fairly, can't really do justice to the whole picture. And as tedious as it is to read it, it's even more tedious to write about it all the time. And also, there's no point in posting anything because there's really no advice anyone can give or insight that can be offered into the situation. The misery and its causes are perfectly diagnosed and intimately understood, and all the excellent remedies you would prescribe turn out to involve killing the disease by killing the patient. Throw up your hands at me in frustration and disgust and walk away. I sure wish I could.
I learn by learning where I have to go.
-Theodore Roethke, "The Waking"
It's funny when literal-minded historians try reading poetry. Understanding the meta in poetry has always been hard for me. So it's like, hard work.
Anyway, something about the poem appeals to me -- I keep turning it over again and again. Something about how discovering death is what makes you alive... but not very much. Which seems about right these days.
Basically, it's very, very bad. I promised not to describe the badness here anymore because I can't really do it fairly, can't really do justice to the whole picture. And as tedious as it is to read it, it's even more tedious to write about it all the time. And also, there's no point in posting anything because there's really no advice anyone can give or insight that can be offered into the situation. The misery and its causes are perfectly diagnosed and intimately understood, and all the excellent remedies you would prescribe turn out to involve killing the disease by killing the patient. Throw up your hands at me in frustration and disgust and walk away. I sure wish I could.
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Date: 2008-07-26 12:16 am (UTC)Seriously.
I mean, toddler bedtime is about 12 minutes away and then what do you think I will be doing?
For reals.
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