Which side of the above, top or bottom, is -.06% less-shitty so I can hold my nose, not vote for it either? Sideways and my whiteyelloworangepinkaddiction, who does sideways in whiteyelloworangepink? As for my Richard Dawson addiction:
[THE CLOWN CANNOT ESCAPE GRAVITY]
Lyn Hejinian
The clown cannot escape gravity; it cannot be light.
With its round paper-white baby face and enormously exaggerated facial features, the clown must appear to a child like a nightmarish caricature of the figure at which the child first smiled.
The clown is at once both newborn and a ruin. Gesticulating like a flailing infant but too big to be one, it is then the epitome of a senile being - and under its preposterous baggy pants perhaps a diapered one. We begin as small clowns and end as repulsive overgrown ones - perhaps this is the truth which with the clown frightens us.
The clown is a swollen prototypical human, its flopping inflated body a travesty of the rounded features of young creatures that we see as adorable, vulnerable, vivacious, which is to say "cute." It appears before us to taunt us for the inadequacy of our sentimentality, the limits of our generosity, and to deny us the narcissistic pleasure of nurturing tiny beings through which life has a future.
This goofy, looming, unpredictable, garish, frantic, bouncy, nonsensical parody of the child has emerged from beyond the horizon of childish optimism; it is clear from its expression that it has come forth out of despair to reproduce its own failure.
Like an adolescent, its feet are too big for it - as if it had yet to grow into them, but it never will. The only fate left to the clown is to accept its punishment, its humiliation, and then depart.
We laugh awkwardly and perhaps to loudly, as we identify with the clown.
ReplyDeletei heard this poem recited by the translator on a youtube video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bQAYVKqTkKo
Let This Darkness Be a Bell Tower
Quiet friend who has come so far,
feel how your breathing makes more space around you. Let this darkness be a bell tower and you the bell. As you ring,
what batters you becomes your strength. Move back and forth into the change. What is it like, such intensity of pain? If the drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine.
In this uncontainable night, be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses, the meaning discovered there.
And if the world has ceased to hear you, say to the silent earth: I flow. To the rushing water, speak: I am.
Sonnets to Orpheus II, 29
RAINER MARIA RILKE, TRANSLATION BY JOANNA MACY AND ANITA BARROWS