Do you dare tempt the gods of grammar?

The comma splice, so *wicked* we find thee referenced, here, today, (free and clear) within this bit of non-fiction; and, furthermore, I'm sure we'll find it a tool *of* the wicked, forever.

According to a recent post on the media-phenom "Stuff White People Like" blog - I know you've all been there - white people love grammar; and in making the case, the author alleges:

When asking someone about their biggest annoyances in life, you might expect responses like "hunger," "being poor," or "getting shot." If you ask a white person, the most common response will likely be “people who use 'their' when they mean 'there.' Maybe comma splices, I’m not sure but it’s definitely one of the two.

True? Well, it's as true as anything else he's written on the blog; winkity-wink, and hahaha. But I need to confess (video) that I had to look up the definition of "comma splice" to even attempt to appreciate what I was guessing was an ironic reference (per the usual mode of operation on the WWPL site) to some semi-arcane rule of sentence construction. A quick google search verified that it was such a thing, indeed, and, further, it is a real no-no for the educated writer.

With respect to proper usage (and we'll see that *there is* such a thing) of this normally-frowned-upon exposition, Lynne Truss, self-styled grammar stickler extraordinaire and author of the bestselling "Eats, Shoots & Leaves", observes:

...so many highly respected writers observe the splice comma that a rather unfair rule emerges on this one: only do it if you're famous... Done knowingly by an established writer, the comma splice is effective, poetic, dashing. Done equally knowingly by people who are not published writers, it can look weak or presumptuous. Done ignorantly by ignorant people, it is awful.

While I'm going to be a little lazy now and not actually go through old blog posts to find an example, but I *know* that I employ the comma splice on occasion. And given that I'm not an established writer, I guess that sort of thing makes me look a little presumptuous to the person who would pick it up (and give a shit). Oh well - these things happen. ;)

Part of the appeal is that it *is* a disreputable technique.

There is something to be said for bending a set of rules - in this case, ones of grammar - in a knowing way so that you may convey meaning beyond a simple, first-level presentation of data. Sure, you've chosen a sequence of words, each with individual symbolism, but you can (and have to) organize them in such a way to provide secondary and tertiary information to the reader/listener (even as most of the time this is an unconscious process); keep in mind that the "information" we're talking about might have nothing to do with the strict meaning of the sentence, but it could have everything to do with making/continuing a connection via, for example, a certain turn of phrase that you both are familiar with.

So, you can willfully manipulate convention - here, in the very construction of your sentence - in order to provide deeper meaning and/or make a deeper connection with the audience. Everyone does it, even when they don't know they're doing it; but if you *are* aware of the phenomena, it can be very satisfying to tap into this human instinct. Layers upon layers upon abstract layers: who doesn't like to solve a puzzle?; and such complexity in the here-and-now keeps us coming back for more, without having the immediate need for reincarnation. Umm.. yeah. haha.

In other news - stumbled upon during c-splice research - "enormity" is not a synonym for "enormousness". Again, from wikipedia:

* Disputed usage: The enormity of the elephant astounded me.
* Traditional usage: The enormity of Stalin's purges astounds me.

For this, I only have one thought: Elephants and Stalins are astounding. And I bid you пока; a new week is upon us!

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ps. If you find a comma splice in one of my past posts, let me know - put it in the comments - and I'll send you a homemade postcard collage; I make such things on occasion (including tonight). Do you dare?

War is a force that gives us meaning

Will you miss the days of the occupation?

I know *I* surely will. You see, it was a time when everything - at least on *our* side of the social equation - was pure and just and right. And I could see the gleaming-white outlines of a most glorious future, as it was set against the blackest-of-black circumstance of oppression. The in's and the out's of the world were *so* clear to me that I could have navigated through a sea of them with my eyes closed and my sails at half-mast. In this way, our long-lost and deep-sea(ded) fortunes were just around the corner (yet still, as always, out of reach).

Yes! Oh-my-god, it hurts just to think about it; why can't we go back?:

The rear seats of the dusty white sedan were tight with passionate bodies (some bloodied), and in such a grimy and restrictive space - physically AND philosophically - instinct kicks in more powerfully than you've ever known. The primal rush is on, and, as a result, I will push you, and I will punch you; my lust for overpowering my wicked opponent - again, you - is insatiable. The cameras were on (they are always on these days) during this otherwise hidden fracas, so I thrust a peace-sign through an open window for the benefit of posterity; the world has a right to know how we toil for legitimacy of cause (and for effect).

I look back, and while it didn't occur to me at the time (there is no room for real-time reflection when blood is boiling), I know it now, and I will know it forevermore: I am defined by who I am not. OH, oh-I-know-it from the top of my manic crown, down to the bottom of my boots (quaking), so it's worth saying again: I am defined by who I am NOT.

So here, in this time and place of struggle.. of *personal* struggle, I am surrounded by those who would restrain me, by those who would keep me here in this purgatory of political engagement until the end of our republic (if such a time hasn't arrived already). And this, THIS.. IS.. UNACCEPTABLE!

My conscience is clear;
There is no other way.
I am destined for a life of
(Pure) action and certitude,
Onwards and onwards..

We will march ourselves, willingly, into a great white light - as the ultimate expression of our hope for a better life; never mind the violence required - it is besides the point (of execution). Yes, it is an act of *love* and the world will understand from where it rose up in due time; it *must* understand! And as such, my path was (and is) preordained.. and unequivocal in constitution: escape by any means necessary. I cannot be held from my date with destiny.

Or, at least, that is how I felt at the time; years have passed "in peace".

Life now, as order is restored in town and country (or so we're told), doesn't seem to have the same urgency as before, and the crisp lines of purpose have bled into a gray mess as I go about my daily - and frighteningly mundane - business. And in such an environment, how can we find solid direction (for living) again? During the uprising, I was a virtuous and enthusiastic mechanism for revolution: things needed to change - we *all* knew it; and I was there to be part this brave new world order. This much was obvious and, again, this much was pure and just and right. Let me fade into nostalgia one last time..

The mise en scène was set as such; I knew my part, and I did not - I could not! - doubt the director for a moment. It did not even matter that I did not know who was running the shadowy production; the show must go on! My god, I will always believe in the myth of war and in the myth of success (through violence); what else do we have to believe in?

I wish I was the first one to say it because it's so true: we are a people lost; and war is a force that gives us meaning. It's obviously true as I look back through wistful gaze into the past, and I *know* it will continue to be true forward into eternity. God help us as we wish, again, for days so strong, so horrible.. and so wonderful.

The sand, a reminder.

It's nice to read something again and find it still full of meaning:

++ +++++

The sand, a reminder. I am a lovely,
Lovely sinner!

Sometimes. And yet nothing changes.

++++++++++++++++++++ ++++++

And it's even better when new layers of understanding have developed, either to replace or be overlayed onto your previous ones; you have more experience from which to draw and make connections from "real-life" to an artistic vague-ery. Or connections visa versa.