Ontological mud?

As I whittle down the idea, the discourse proliferates. The more I write, the narrower my focus. What I am writing becomes ever smaller and more specific, like a statue chiseled from marble, ever more vertical in aspect, even as the words which form it branch out and form a wide, busy river delta. Thus the idea cloud becomes the mind map becomes the outline becomes the essay — or the delusion becomes the dream becomes the rant becomes the manifesto. (The life becomes the journal becomes the notebook becomes the draft becomes the novel/memoir.) Content precedes form, but the creation of content simultaneously constitutes form. Broad ideas lead to specificities, but in a path-dependent manner: Creativity is anisotropic.

And sometimes the delta turns back on itself, and the density of thought turns into a swamp — a vast, unwieldy apparatus. Currents undercut and interpenetrate to such an extend that the river just collapses, spreads out. No longer a haven of deep water for proud and modern ships, but not dry and parched like the vapid and insipid mainland, the swamp-book becomes a contradiction: not an easily used tool, not a functional ideological object, and yet still murky and grimy like the most well-worn of implements. The passions and internal contradictions are such that the conventional style of the river cannot hold you, even in its broadest and most humid of forms. Neither implementation nor beautification. Sometimes the words get away from you, and you are left standing knee deep in the mud you’ve created of your cultural heritage.

Let us play in the mud and get dirty.


~ by dejavuoracle on April 17, 2009.

One Response to “Ontological mud?”

  1. It seems as if there is a paucity of horizontal sculpture in the world. Just saying.

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