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Note: I learned from a reference to Swift in S. J. Gould’s Dinosaur in a Haystack that sweetness & light refer to honey & wax, what bees make.

sentiment & anti-sentiment or cynicism

   After our post-midnight palaver, a sweetness & light treat to be sure, honey & wax, patience of candles, I was musing upon the held thought, (thoughtus interruptus?), about sentimentality, and I was compelled by honesty( a pestilence) to look at our treasured anti-sentimentality and its perils.

   If sentimentality – or as the Brits would have it with ever so slightly raised eyebrow, “How wet . . .” – if sentimentality is false feeling, derivative feeling, canned feeling, bland feeling, or even rabid feeling of herds, then there is also a slippery slope of anti-sentimentality which can become yet uglier because the dry one-who-feels should have wit and sense enough to know better: cynicism.

   Cynicism is a fetid sin. In a world of grains-of-sand worlds, not to say also feathers, the turquoise of your eyes, and organic Silver Tip tea, what can be said of anti-sentimentalists who indulge cynicism? As Swift might have it: Plague upon you, scurvy dog, eat worms, and, fraught with excrement and venom, roil in the malignity of your own bile & so4th.

   Worse, dare I say it, than cynicism is romance, is love. Romance is just another rut like religion & patriotism. Gods know it feels synaptically divine, but it’s very hard to keep it authentic, creedless. Any feeling religious or romantic that has a creed, a word like God or Love is dying if not stonedead already. We cravenly want the stamped & sealed word or gesture, ratified by hallmark or the priestgururabbi, but every indulgence of these stiffens the animated actual fresh, surprising feeling. (Which is why music is so dangerous, our song to reset the broken record back into its groove. Notice one’s postjudice to songs from the past – the attempt to re-beat the drum, re-ignite the desire. Cutting these sentimental umbilical cords is daring.) It would be finer by far to say “I left-big-toenail clipping you” one day and “I tawny you” the next – anything to really re-notice the unquenchable absurdity of  the ballistic marvel of you, peculiar and my only-once-sung song of delight and horror. The horror, the horror. The delight, the delight. The delightful horror, the horrible delight.  Flame and worm dung. Te quiero demasiado. It sounds rarer and rawer in another language. Less typical and tepid.  

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3 Dog . Oc . Wolf. North . tzol 249  02.06.06 mon 

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the education-obsessed world begins today with you ..

.. let’s spend the $820,000 per minute Military Budget on education instead

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