language is liquid;
meaning meanders.
in the long-run,
meanings are meaningless,
untethered and adrift
in an ocean of possibility.
[political words' meanings
don't drift, but tumble with
whiplash violence through
a desert of the possible.
But, predictably, the first variation
of a political word is the exact
opposite of its original meaning.]
Politics and the English Language by George Orwell
"in the trenches" what a circuit that phrase has taken: from the Western Front of World War I, where the trenches were cold, claustrophobic places of mud and creeping mustard gas; harbor & prison for shell-shocked souls at wit's end to become used by businesspeople & politicians to describe metaphorical fights... but there are no metaphorical fights, they should be called metaphorical games games have winners & losers, but not the living & the dead & the dying & the disabled & the permanently disturbed it feels like a frivolous bit of linguistic creep as fighters now stand on cold, wet feet in muddy trenches in Eastern Ukraine talk of salespeople or grassroots political organizers as "in the trenches" misses the point that everyone in trenches is a soldier -- be they a salesperson in the metaphorical "trenches" of calmer days.
The Information: A History, a Theory, a Flood by James Gleick
Introducing Semiotics: A Graphic Guide by Paul Cobley
The girl cast an incantation —
and as her words bore fruit —
they burned her as a witch.
-Blaming the woman
-Blaming her magic
-Blaming a Devil,
But granting amnesty to the words.
What human endeavor is unswayed
by the force of words?
What marauding army was sent off
without a flurry of furious words?
How many Generals have tried
to match the grace of the St. Crispin’s Day Speech?
And though they fail,
their words aren’t without kinetic effect.
What lost cause found victory in words
spewed by a red-faced coach
in a half-time locker-room?
Hasn’t the stab of careless words
been felt more deeply than a dagger?
— splitting up couples, if not Empires.
It may be true that words don’t kill people,
that people kill people,
but when did anyone ever get lethally worked up
in the absence of a well-sequenced string of words?
Some words are words; some words are garbage trucks.
They carry steaming piles of dumpster lumps,
and all the rained refuse the dim can chuck.
Becoming too laden to make the Dump.
And that poor word is broken down in funk.
He held half-baked ideas in
his twice-baked brain.
He’d grab his umbrella when they
shouted, “Make it rain!”
–the umbrella he should have left for a
friend stuck home under the weather.
But his glasses were bent out of shape, and
he was hell-bent for leather
So, he couldn’t find his coat, nor gloves,
nor ass-less chaps.
And, thus, was running better late
than never — perhaps.
He couldn’t afford to miss the boat
that had sailed, my friend.
He needed his job, ’cause a penny
earned was one he’d spend.
When told he was skating on thin ice,
he maxxed out the AC.
All his blessings were disguised too
well for him to see.
He’d thought he was okay when told
he had stiff competition.
–the nuns taught him to fix that with six
Hail Marys and an Act of Contrition.
But they said his co-workers were
really on the ball.
He’d have gotten a Pilates chair,
but was afraid to fall.
When he heard the new guy was up-and-coming,
he got up and left.
He wanted to be thick as thieves so he
went out for a supply closet theft.
Imagine standing on the train platform,
listening to the distant approaching train,
and you hear a voice say —
unprovoked —
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to shove you.”
I predict you would take two steps back before you try to divine meaning.
And when that speaker objects, saying,
“Brother, you misheard me. I said I’m NOT going to shove you in front of the train.”
He’ll not have improved his credibility through clarity of negation,
especially if he gently lays a fraternal hand upon your shoulder.
It’s like being told to not think of a white bear.
An inseparable seed of murder is sewn into those words.
How to Write a Sentence: And How to Read One by Stanley Fish
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
The sentence is the unit of writing at which beauty resides. So, while sentences might not be the sexiest scale of writing, it’s worth learning how to do them well. Stanley Fish offers a book which explores why we should care about the sentence and what separates the good and bad of sentences, before it moves into investigation of various types of sentences.
The first four chapters lay the groundwork by explaining what it is about sentences that make them worth mastering, and then outlines what makes a good sentence (while simultaneously explaining how truly great sentence construction might not come about through the sources and approaches that one has been led to expect.)
Chapters five through ten examine a few different classifications of sentences. Chapters five and six contrast the subordinating style with the additive style. The former sentences are hierarchically arranged, while the latter offers the freer / less ordered approach. Each of the two approaches has its advantages. The former make up many of the pithy bits of wisdom transmitted through sentence, while the latter supports a streaming consciousness style of writing (if done well.)
Chapter seven considers satire by sentence. Chapters nine and ten turn to a different classification scheme: first and last sentences, respectively. Both first and last sentences are disproportionately remembered, and each has a unique role in written works. The final chapter is about sentences that are self-reflective.
Throughout the book, Fish uses sentences – some famous and others from famous works – to offer the reader exemplars of the craft. The general approach is a good deal less technical and more reflective than most books on the subject. This makes Fish’s book both more readable, but also more contentious (in as much as a discussion of sentences can be contentious) than related works.
I’d recommend this book for writers and those interested in crafting language.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 