‘Let me try this. I don’t get it. Does this matter? Did that?’ I looked forlorn and was taken by others to look for loneliness. Maybe I was. Who could tell? I felt abandoned to my own wits which I happened not to have about. ‘What now? Try again!’ and again and again it hit me like a noise in a flock of noises fluttering about in the room picking on me, one at a time but at the same time all together.
I said: “Cafeterias are torture chambers. They should be banned.”. That was a weird thing to say judging from the awkwardness that ensued. I shut up. I played with the dough that formed itself between me and the others. I knew I could shape it, condense it and – when in shape – manipulate it. ‘Human relations are made of clay.’, I didn’t say that as I couldn’t get a grip on them in the there and then.
Freeze or fleece, that is the question.
Look at the deer, it can be all ear.
Listening for what it can’t yet see.
The ear is noble. It does not fear.
It is original. First was the ear.
How dull’s the eye that cannot hear?
The bull it shits about “The Senses”,
a putsch of the eye enslaves the ear.
The common makes no sense to me.
Better blind than being deaf to you.
The eye may awe, the ear doth thaw.
The ear can hear, the eye just bites.
A brain without eyes is just blind to lies.
Sight deceives, hearing weaves tones
and tones that survive our bones. Continue reading
Posted in JoB
Tagged phoetry, phroesy
‘My dear parents,’ said the sister banging her hand on the table by way of an introduction, ‘things cannot go on any longer in this way. Maybe if you don’t understand that, well, I do. I will not utter my brother’s name in front of this monster, and thus I say only that we must try to get rid of it. We have tried what is humanly possible to take care of it and to be patient. I believe that no one can criticize us in the slightest.’, F. Kafka, The Metamorphosis.
Only when you’re heard does it make sense to say something.
Job only wants one thing: to be heard. His friends listen to him. They do not hear what he is saying. Gregor wanted one thing: that his sister might develop herself. She does and so stops listening to him.
It’s all right. Both get what they want in the end. Not justice or wisdom or payback for the observation of their duties. They get want they want. They’re heard. Job’s tabernacle will be blessed and Gregor’s family fairs well as well.
You can read both as criticism. That is what happens if you try to hear what is being said. Still, think a little harder when you are trying to hear something. Or a little less. Because, you know, literally both stories end on the up and up. Gregor and Job get what they want, they literally and exactly get what they want.
If you think they don’t then you didn’t hear what they said. Maybe because you were too busy still listening to what you want for them. Probably because you only hear what you want.
Try again (warning: full-on atheism ahead): Continue reading
Posted in JoB, Kafka
Tagged atheism, bible, cultural optimism, Hobbes, JoB, Kafka, Kierkegaard, learning, phoetry, phroesy, universals