Archive for August, 2011

August 15th, 2011

Content Will Find a Way

The other day, I was presented with a poem selected for its style (after Lewis Carroll), but evidently not its mechanical aptitude. So after being asked if I’d like to try “fixing” the poem’s rhythm, I took a stab at it, sparking the following conversation between my master and myself:

him: Now publish it an’ link to [the blog where said poem was posted].
me: Well…
me: May I talk to you about that first?
him: Sure
me: I do not wish to publish this on my blog. My blog is not a venue for rhythm correction.
him: Why not?
me: Because I want it to be for thoughts and themes and ideas, not for editing. I want my posts to be complete pieces, and I am not interested in writing a complete piece about this poem. I just wanted to point out that the rhythm had been ruined, and when you asked if I wanted to fix it I thought it might be fun.
him: Aite. Not like you have to, but I don’t think your narrowness is really good for you.
me: Noted.
him: I mean, I thought you believed in open minds and all that.
me: Open minds. That doesn’t mean I want my blog to be the kitchen sink.
him: There is no difference I can discern between you not wanting to publish an idea of yours that is in fact complete because it doesn’t conform to some arbitrary and ill-conceived standards of puffery
him: And the attitude of some person that insists you must bow to allah this way.
me: The person who insists on bowing is applying his narrowness to someone else.
him: So are you.
me: To whom am I applying this narrowness other than myself?
him: Yourself.
me: I am other than myself?
him: Why not?
him: You should be as fair to yourself as you’d be to some other.
me: I am not trying to build something with some other.
him: If a company owned by the government owes taxes, it pays those taxes.
him: Just so, you.
me: Well this is a very interesting argument, but functionally I am different from other people because I can do/make things with myself differently than I can with other people.
him: Yes. But you shouldn’t allow that to jip you.
me: So I should assume that any brick I see or possible brick-shaped thing I might happen to come across should go into my building, just because I came across it?
me: I should have no plan and no standards, in other words?
him: Open mind. You should consider it, yes.
me: So as not to be jipped?
me: Okay. I was pretty sure I had already considered it, but in the interest of exercise, let’s see.
him: Consideration, for the record
him: Is fairly arguing the point of both sides.
me: I believe the side of “publish it” has been fairly argued.
me: Do you think otherwise?
him: I dunno.
him: Depends on the objections that are risen. But basically, it stands on the theory it should be published because it is something that you did.
me: Okay, let’s see. It’s there, it’s writing, it could be entertaining, it could be good. It could serve even as a backstop for reflecting on my own skills or interest in the future, if nothing else. It could also attract some traffic, and help me be more involved with some other blogger people.
me: Fair?
him: I think mine controls the issue.
me: Should I post audio files of my farts?
him: If you had good ones.
him: Why not?
me: Yeah. We fundamentally differ in what we think a blog is for. I’ll concede the definition to you of course, but that doesn’t change how I want to use/present mine. I’ll call the blog something else though if you think it’s necessary, so as not to confuse things.
him: I’m just saying calling the blog anything else is an exercise in allahthiswayness.
me: In the same way you not wearing bluejeans is allahthiswayness.
him: Indeed.
me: Well, I have no problem with certain abstainments.
him: Hehe ok.
him: Now it has been fairly argued.
me: Cool.

While I still have no particular inclination to post the altered poem, it struck me that the conversation was something that easily falls into my idea of what I’d like to have published here. And the irony of finding something to show in the midst of arguing against showing a thing satisfies my conviction that life’s cream often rises to the surface in unexpected places, in unexpected concentrations.