Thursday, January 8, 2009

Twixt Nyx and ?Day

Twisted Nixon, Eh?

You see, much of the time I rely on resonances and connotations to communicate themselves to the reader without my having to analyze, explain them or spell them out. Here, it just seems amusing that one set of phonemes having to do with the time of day this is, so immediately may have, I don't know the technical term, parallel/potential/similar/related sounds which though having to do with what seems an entirely different entity still to me reveal possibly hitherto unnoticed commonalities between both entities. In other words, start with one,end with the other, there must be something that both share. Is this analysis tiresome? Going at it another way, the Richard Nixon may easily and has often been known as "twisted," but does anyone notice that another attribute of the hated president, his being caught between light and dark, may be brought into being/force/effect through a simple recitation of a homophone of his second name: Nix goes to Nyx -- Nothingness becomes Night. A common interjection combined with but one additional sound/letter "d" completes the opposition/combination "Nyx and Day" from "Nixon, eh?" The attributes of Nixon's name are in this case not so very distant either from who he was, or what I am attempting to write about him.

Can I stop now?

I was just going to say, on another note, that the much harped upon "opposition" of Night and Day, where each is hated by adherents of the other or even by the other, is not only unnecessary, but untrue. Night does not hate day, and day does not hate Night. It's a fact. Somebody else brought that to me through the culture in which I was embedded; it is neither within me or within reality. Why should you care? Because so much conflict, death, injury, misunderstanding, miscommunication, and just plain unpleasantness is either based upon or actively uses this misconception to make all our lives less than they could be. That's why I care, anyway. Change one aspect of the whole, and the rest must change as well.

See, it's better to read my poetry.

Is Twisted Nixon the name of a band yet?

It's about 6:00 and the sun is not yet up. It's in the 40s outside (and in my life, too, sorry to say). Today the temperature is supposed to rise to around 70 degrees (a peak which lasts about three seconds in the winter) and then fall tonight to ? probably around 40.

Most of my readership is probably far past the conflict of light and dark, anyway, so i'll drop the commentary on that part.

Here at my mother's the natural environment, in all its desert-mountain-shapelybulkofwintercloud glory, is at a very effective remove from my perception of it. Why? Because my mother prefers the blinds closed for the reason she doesn't want anyone to see inside the place to see what she has. Not that she's wealthy, but she has accumulated some presentable and even valuable decorations, furniture, etc. and she doesn't trust the people who have moved in in the last umpteen years, or it seems, many people around the globe. It's probably true that I can be altogether too trusting, but she is just downright paranoid, it seems to me. I have to scratch my name and address off my used pill bottles, e.g. They have ads about that here on TV, scaring people about identity theft. Speaking of the media, one particularly outrageous example of the "conservatism" here was that they had the picture on the front page of a local free paper of a MARIJUANA smoker who was wanted for a parole violation under the story of a local child pornographer whose picture they did not publish. Guess what, the MARIJUANA smoker was a young black man. I'm going to write a letter to the editor of that paper. I guess throwing rocks at its offices might also be good, but Id want to be with someone else. Is that cowardice/being a reactionary bourgeois? I don't know. No perspective here, this is JM/Tears of Estoril.

I'm getting really tired of saying little or nothing. I had nothing in mind when I sat down to write this, and so that's what came out. Just to repeat, I am not now, nor have I ever been, a MOose.

Adios, amiga(o)s.

With love,

An occasional wearer of suggestive clothing for practical purposes,
Esther Ill.

1 comment:

  1. Eh - never though throwing rocks was your style.

    --- M