My cat sidles up to my leg with a plaintive cry, ducking his head under my calf and reaching up to swat at me with unsheathed claws, and I know that he is lonely. I lift him up gently, turning him over and cradling him in my left arm like an infant, resting my hand on his belly. He is not tired, having just awoken from a lengthy nap, yet his eyes droop slowly closed in an autonomic response to some innate and primitive sense of sanctuary. Without a sound, I have spoken the ancient language of felines; he is loved, and he is at peace.
The borders of language encircle us more tightly than we wish to admit. My relationship with my pets is decidedly anthropomorphic, and yet I note with disappointment that their response is instinctive to my tone rather than my words as I ask them about their day or order them off the counter. Spoken word carries as much nuance in inflection as in construction; perhaps I will misunderstand you purely for the Arkansas in your upbringing contrasted against the California in mine. Our increasing ability to transfer complex ideas and philosophies is tainted in parallel by the richness of our misconceptions.
So much the worse for us if we write - passive, asynchronous dialog is ripe for interpretation, the beauty of well-wrought poetry and yet the bane of 'interpersonal communication'. Even now, my stories are churned through the fantastical machine of your mind, and what comes out the other end is re-configured, re-branded, and re-packaged as a new and unpredictable hybrid of our collective patois. We are all informed by the isolating uniqueness of our own experience. This film has been modified to fit your screen.
Even for all of our confusion, though, we can still affect each other, move each other to both triumph and tears. Together we scheme our capitulation, to know and be known, deceive and be deceived. Our ideas progress and recede, planting the seeds of our future while altering the trail of our past. We bear and abandon our narratives through ignorance, insight and ownership. We are all tales waiting to be edited by a thousand pens. The power of words is undeniable.
Unless, of course, you're a cat.
The borders of language encircle us more tightly than we wish to admit. My relationship with my pets is decidedly anthropomorphic, and yet I note with disappointment that their response is instinctive to my tone rather than my words as I ask them about their day or order them off the counter. Spoken word carries as much nuance in inflection as in construction; perhaps I will misunderstand you purely for the Arkansas in your upbringing contrasted against the California in mine. Our increasing ability to transfer complex ideas and philosophies is tainted in parallel by the richness of our misconceptions.
So much the worse for us if we write - passive, asynchronous dialog is ripe for interpretation, the beauty of well-wrought poetry and yet the bane of 'interpersonal communication'. Even now, my stories are churned through the fantastical machine of your mind, and what comes out the other end is re-configured, re-branded, and re-packaged as a new and unpredictable hybrid of our collective patois. We are all informed by the isolating uniqueness of our own experience. This film has been modified to fit your screen.
Even for all of our confusion, though, we can still affect each other, move each other to both triumph and tears. Together we scheme our capitulation, to know and be known, deceive and be deceived. Our ideas progress and recede, planting the seeds of our future while altering the trail of our past. We bear and abandon our narratives through ignorance, insight and ownership. We are all tales waiting to be edited by a thousand pens. The power of words is undeniable.
Unless, of course, you're a cat.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home