Saturday, January 15, 2011

Saturday commute xii

There can be torments, as you know -
Some gruesome things will 
scarcely show - that there he is.

Sometimes a male reaches out, in gender's circum-spect redoubt, of time or kind we all will pigeon-hole. But there we are, and no one else, think-ing, we can't do this again. Who said the word that's gladly said, as how a breeze restores a bed: a zephyr of reflec-tion, not a storm?


I wonder why the long 'a' has a deeper diphthong in male than in female; it certainly can't be a conditioned inclination to linger longer on the letters. Possibly, local speech plays an influence, but wouldn't that show up in two syllables? Trying to determine whether this difference is content-driven, the comparison word, unmale comes to mind, yet not exactly shining of innocence, often an epithet, not a description. In that word the 'a' is still more emphasised than in female, but the first syllable is regularly given greater weight as well, to enforce the distinction.


We are accustomed to being bound - or, in our better moments, wish to be - to rules of evidence whose default position is non-proof. But at the same time we're reluctant - or, in our better moments, need to be - to accept inadequate information as proof, in this case, of innocuous glottal accident. This is the way you, and this is the way I become acquainted with the intellectual drag of ignorance in its no longer neutral weight, through the Saturday commute from contemplation of a fact - a molecule of knowable substance whose structure we feign to dismiss, only to absorb it as undue weight. Some will feel these accretions as sediment of their own intent, some will assimilate them in a corpulence of sentiment retained as right. A willingness to know will seek companionship; a willingness not to know has it, already. What is that gravity that makes the latter turn upon the others, as Mrs Palin does, arraign-ing them for insult?

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