I think six people have now seen and commented on my Sequences. 17 in all have seen it, if the counter involved is only counting each person’s first visit. The only slightly negative comment about it came from the one of the very few who made any meaningful comment on it, Endwar, who said he wasn’t all that taken with long division. Which, I (Moon in Aries!) instantly responded to with a phooey directed at him followed by a description of (some of) my feelings about long division poems: “I don’t think of any of my long divisions as division, but one multiplication and one addition. I love the idea of objects or images multiplying each other. Also the complication of the metaphor resulting: the metaphor having three parts: the multiplier, the multiplicand and the process of multiplication. My long division poems also bring me back to how wonderful I thought the process of long division was when I was first exposed to it.”
I also commented that my long divisions are much more poetic than conceptual, and Endwar leans more to the poeticoceptual than to the conceptipoetic. As I’m sure I’ve mused before, I feel many people in science (like Endwar although this may not apply to him), are too conceptual to be able to break out of their analytical minds enough to flow into the weirdwhere my long divisions bobble into.
Ha, they may need the mix of APCs and opiated pain pills I sometimes take. I say that because I took such a mix just twenty minutes ago after being dead-headedly uncreative for a week or more–and look how “creative” my weiords bobbled at the end of the previous sentence. The lilt up into poeticonceptuality. Actually, with me, it is an ascent into an energy level sufficient to express whatever poeticonceptuality I have–but others not naturally in the zone may well be helped by such a mix into it. So, require visitors to my exhibts and readers of my books to take a dose prior to engaging my work?
Meanwhile, the mix continues working on me. It’s got me into my semi-megalomaniacal zone. “Semi,” because I’m aware that I’m in it, or at least enough aware of my readers to pretend to think I’m in it when IT IS NOT ANY KIND OF MANIA FOR ME TO RECOGNIZE THAT I AM TO JEHOVAH WHAT HE IS TO KOOL-AID JONES. I do get hilarious when in the zone, don’t I! Anyway, as I was about to say, I once again wonder why hardly anyone bothers with writings of mine like this one. So many others have large audiences for similar reflections whose plod is way lower than the deft snipper of mine. Okay, I’m not quite a Thoreau or Emerson (the first two I can think of whom I hope have contributed to what I try for with my poetic prose–Robert Frost another), but surely, I keep believing (even when not in my possibly megalomaniacal zone, the difference being that I keep my belief to myself then), I’m close enough to them often enough to attract the attention of people who like that kind of writing more than I do.
Two possibilities: I’m more wildly out-of-phase with the zeitgeist than I feel I am–or I’m too boring repeating a long-dead zeitgeist. I can’t tell, which is why I so much wish I could get feedback from my few readers. But they are all as creatively other-occupied as I, who rarely am able to critique them! What I need are academics, and academics are academics because they are innately behind and want to stay there–who can’t not stay there.
I just made up a new category for entries like this one: “Autobiosophy.” Words about my, uh, wisdom, rather than words about me. I feel I write a lot more about my thoughts than I do about me, a good reason for my claim that I ain’t no narcissiphist. Another argument of mine against the latter tag, which has been applied to me, is that I don’t worship myself, I am aware of and point out flaws of mine all the time. I am balancedly ego-postive and ego-negative. Or so it seems to me.
I could go on forever but will try to do it taking care of the reviewing I’m behind on. Wish me luck. You needn’t wish me contentedness: the pills have me ridiculously content with the whole universe.
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