The Frustrations of Language

A writer’s biggest frustration is language itself. You’ll be scribbling through an afternoon, words tumbling onto the page one after another, your brain and pen for once not squabbling but in perfect sync — and then you’ll swerve into a ditch. A chasm will have opened up, one that stinks foul and no amount of flipping through a thesaurus will help you cross. You’ve hit an emotion and you can find no way to describe it, no word or phrase to bridge the gap.

Some languages navigate these pitfalls better than others. German, obligingly following stereotype, is precise and efficient, taking compounds to a new level, never reticent to throw two, three or four words together if the situation calls for it. “Vergangenheitsbewaltigung” means struggling to come to terms with the past. “Sitzpinkler” is a man who sits down to pee. “Eisenbahnscheinbewegung,” which never fails to bring a smile to my face, describes the sensation of sitting on a train you think is moving, only to find out it is actually the adjacent train that is in motion.

All in one word! The opposite of George Orwell’s Newspeak, expanding vocabulary by creating more nuanced, specific and fine-grained words, broadening the possibilities of human expression. Orwell proposed just this: a real-life ministry for language charged with inventing new words for phenomena we haven’t yet labelled. We come up with words for new technology all the time, but rarely do we try to name new emotions, novel feelings that bubble up in that swirling, gurgling morass inside us.

Read the full article at Airship Daily

We’re Addicted To Consumption

How many times have you sat in a cafe, waiting for a friend, and found yourself unable to look away from your phone? You just had to sip your coffee and smoke a cigarette? Or flip through a magazine for fear of looking at a loose end?

We are taught that being a good citizen is to consume. Be it drink, food or rolling news we are constantly taking something in. Our minds gobbling stimuli from all sides. A crutch which we use to hobble through our days.

So much so that we find ourselves uncomfortable doing nothing. A recent study in Science found that some people chose mild electric shocks over spending 15 minutes in a room alone. We are only happy with nothing when it is repackaged and we’re paying for it. Meditation classes are hip because they give it a purpose. Suddenly sitting still becomes an activity, with goals, techniques and structure. An irony not lost on the critics of Suzuki, Watts and others.

Read the full article at Salon

Getting Under The Skin of Things

Often when I write an image comes to mind, a hand with claw like fingers, piercing the skin of an arm. They dig down and wriggle under, sludging through flesh, knuckles forming bump after bump on the surface of the skin. The image never seems painful or gross. Both parties seem in on the act, the fingers more distressed than the arm, if anything. Frustrated that they can’t clear the flesh, break the bone and emerge the other side.

How Difference Lurks Behind Everything

Difference is always bubbling. It carves us up and brings us together, forever lurking under the skin of an issue, a shadow on the periphery that bursts into light when you try to grab it.

It is the lense through which we ascribe meaning to the world. How we tell between plants and animals, water and dirt, people and other people. As the creator of categories it brings the world into focus, allowing us to distinguish between one thing and another.

The Conflict of Past, Present & Future

Life can be a frustrating dilemma between the past, present and future. Which to prioritise, where to get hung up. The past always looming, that great canon of knowledge, institution and existence, a shadowy hand in everything you do. But so does the future, dragging us away from the moment, forcing us to consider the long term, to search, aspire and progress.

They inform our politics. Conservatives venerate the past, confusing the established with the right. Revolutionaries cast their anchors forward, always galloping towards a new utopia, ever gazing beyond the horizon. Zamyatin argued change had inherent virtue. That we should always be moving. The staidness of things – entropy – being the antipathy of good.

Why Your Personality Isn’t Your Fault

To get away from yourself is difficult. Nature chains your body and your mind. Those that have managed it, through an out of body experience or a psychedelic trip, claim to have unique perspectives on life and perhaps so. But the majority of us stay inside our heads. We view I as synonymous with self. All of those traits and predispositions, those wiggles and twists of our personalities. They are us. We see no distinction.

And who could be responsible for your self but you? We’re told from childhood to take responsibility for our actions. A plethora of books and television shows teach us that we can improve the self, if only we try hard enough. Become thinner, more intelligent, make more friends. Our politics emphasises the individual, making choices and flaunting his agency. We are own masters.

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