This is ridiculous. I’ve been writing a paragraph or two a night, then abandoning them, leaving a dust cloud of scattered, disconnected words.
Think of this as clearing my desk.
My father would, when it suited him, forbid the discussion of politics and religion at the dinner table.
Ill-disguised farce, all of it.
As I mentioned before, no one in our family had any interest whatsoever in religion, and the only one at the dinner table who ever wished to discuss politics was I. His reason for not wanting to hear it had nothing to do with civility whilst dining, which is a damn fine concept, but that he didn’t wish to hear it. At least from me.
My only point here is that I learned two things: not to discuss politics and religion at the dinner table, and there are a fair few number of men who do not wish to hear a girl discuss politics.
And, given the discussion that has been transpiring in our Comments, and given that I cannot for a moment imagine that any flatworlders or believers in intelligent design would venture into this Parlour, I shall proffer just the briefest of comments myself.
When my mother had a series of strokes which quickly destroyed her ability to speak coherently, then at all, I learned and watched, as she struggled, the other side of her brain struggled, to learn new paths to speech. I learned that this can happen, and perhaps it might have with my mother, if she had had more time.
Two paths to the same skill.
The other thought has to do with cookery, since it was mentioned in our Comments as regards coexistence. I do most thoroughly believe that cooking is simultaneously both art and science, requiring both heart and knowledge. Not coexisting in some sort of wary stand-off, but intertwined, plaited.
I use the word heart, rather than religion, and I don’t think there’s any need to deconstruct the meaning of the two words.
Suffice, for me, that anything worth doing is not only worth doing well but also worth doing with heart. I believe much that is ill with the world has to do with the rigid separation of powers between logos and, well, heart.
One can, for example, bake a cake without heart, and I have seen it done. One can also bake a cake without science, and I have shuddered to see that done once too often. And the truth is, despite my overweening passion for such confections, I would not choose to eat either.
And a very quick note about News.
As comrada b mentioned in our Comments, yes, Enlace Civil’s bank accounts have once again been closed, for no stated reason other than “they”, you know, “can.” The communities have been issuing supportive statements and such, but I would suggest that anyone who would like to send funds use the time honoured methods mentioned here previously.
Write me if you require a reminder.
[The following was written, though not posted, a week ago.] I am pleased to report that we have now received the first “clarification” on the two incidents of Boys Gone Wild which I mentioned in last night’s post and which so entertained me.
This has to do with the more obscure reference, of which I imagine only one or two of my readers might be aware, especially since it sounds as if one of those readers – or one of his homeboys - might have been involved in said dust-up.
The dust-up which we now know never took place. We knew this from the start, of course, given that nothing which is ever reported in any mainstream media ever actually took place. The compas didn’t really believe they’d been sequestered and then behave like a bunch of girlie boys, sending frantic messages to their leader. No durable goods were tossed, bad words uttered, flounces flounced.
I might have been perversely disappointed by this clarification, but, given the homeboys in question, I choose to remain a believer .