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The Jackson 5 - I’ll Be There
Reblogged from where troubles melt like lemon drops
frolic
A woman should be II things : Carefree & Fabulous
“What struck me about the second part of the novel was Addie’s narrative, for she makes an important point about language. When she’s talking about love, as Anse understands it, she says: ‘I knew that the word was like the others; just a shape to fill a lack’ (72). I think that this is stating how language is artificial in that people use words to compensate for what they cannot experience independent of language. I mean, if you take a word like ‘love,’ as in ‘I love you,’ you are using the meanings and associations of the word ‘love’ to describe how you feel about someone. But the word and its meaning have existed (at least on an abstract plane) before you ‘loved’; you didn’t invent the word—it was already there. So you aren’t really choosing a word to describe your feelings; you are constructing how you feel by choosing the word. But the word is just a word, a thing. So, as Addie says, you are using a thing (the word ‘love’) to create an experience because there wouldn’t be an experience without the thing. A good analogy to clarify what I’m saying is that I am using words to ‘fill’ in for my not-very-well-thought-out ideas (my ‘lack’).”
I think that this is an interesting comment that raises a lot of issues about language. If you’re an English major you’ll probably grapple with these as you go on. What is the relationship between the thing and the word? Why do we call a bat a ‘bat’? (And what do you see when I write ‘bat’?) Speaking or writing about emotions complicates the issue: What came first: the emotion or the word? Do words express emotions, or do words limit emotions? There are two general views of language. First, words have power. One of the arguments of feminism, for example, is that men have been dominant in part because they have controlled the language and hence the way we think. Second, words are powerless to express what we mean; we often can’t find the words to say what we mean.”
“
I want to be a lost poem in a stranger’s coat pocket, that conveys the importance of you.
To assure you of my desire, to assure you of dreams. I want all the possibilities of you in writing.
I want to give you your reflection, I want your eyes on me, I want to travel to the lightness with you and stay there, and I want everything before you…
…everything before you to follow us like a trail behind me.
I want never to say goodbye to you, even on the street corner or the phone.
I want, I want so much… I’m breathless.
I want to put my power into a poem to burn a hole in your pocket so I can sew it.
I want my words to scream through you. I want the poem not to mean that much.
And I want to contradict myself by accident, and for you to know what I mean.
I want you to be distant and for me to feel you close, I want endless days when it’s day and… nighttime never to end when it’s night.
I want all the seasons in one day. I want the sun to set before us and come up in front of us.
I want water up to our waists and to be drenched by the rain, up to our ankles with holes in our shoes.
…with holes in our shoes. I want to think your thoughts because they’re mine.
I want only what’s urgent with you.
I want to get in the way of the barriers and I want you to be a tough guy when you’re supposed to,
like you do already.
…when you’re supposed to. And I want you to be tender, like you do already.
And I want us to have met for a reason and I want that reason to be important.
And I want it to be bigger than us, I want it to take over us.
I want to forget. I want to remember us.
And when you say you love me I don’t want to think you really mean New York City, and all the fun
we have in it.
And I want your smile always, and your grimaces too.
I want your scar on my lips, and I want your disappointments in my heart.
I want your strength in my soul and I want your soul in my eyes.
I want to believe everything you say, and I do.
And I want you to tell me what’s best when I don’t know.
And when you’re lost I want to find you.
And when you’re weary I want to give you steeples and cathedral thoughts and coliseum dreams.
I want to drag you from the darkness and kneel with you exhausted with the blinding light blaring on us… and…
To assure you of my desire, to assure you of dreams. I want all the possibilities of you in writing.
I want to give you your reflection, I want your eyes on me, I want to travel to the lightness with you and stay there, and I want everything before you…
…everything before you to follow us like a trail behind me.
I want never to say goodbye to you, even on the street corner or the phone.
I want, I want so much… I’m breathless.
I want to put my power into a poem to burn a hole in your pocket so I can sew it.
I want my words to scream through you. I want the poem not to mean that much.
And I want to contradict myself by accident, and for you to know what I mean.
I want you to be distant and for me to feel you close, I want endless days when it’s day and… nighttime never to end when it’s night.
I want all the seasons in one day. I want the sun to set before us and come up in front of us.
I want water up to our waists and to be drenched by the rain, up to our ankles with holes in our shoes.
…with holes in our shoes. I want to think your thoughts because they’re mine.
I want only what’s urgent with you.
I want to get in the way of the barriers and I want you to be a tough guy when you’re supposed to,
like you do already.
…when you’re supposed to. And I want you to be tender, like you do already.
And I want us to have met for a reason and I want that reason to be important.
And I want it to be bigger than us, I want it to take over us.
I want to forget. I want to remember us.
And when you say you love me I don’t want to think you really mean New York City, and all the fun
we have in it.
And I want your smile always, and your grimaces too.
I want your scar on my lips, and I want your disappointments in my heart.
I want your strength in my soul and I want your soul in my eyes.
I want to believe everything you say, and I do.
And I want you to tell me what’s best when I don’t know.
And when you’re lost I want to find you.
And when you’re weary I want to give you steeples and cathedral thoughts and coliseum dreams.
I want to drag you from the darkness and kneel with you exhausted with the blinding light blaring on us… and…
— Chelsea Walls
“
and when he shall die
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.
— unknown
(1/21)
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