I am losing the ability to think

I am reading Goethe (pronounced Gur-ta) and I can't get into it because nothing happens here and I am tired of reading. How is Mary March? We haven't spoken in a while. I will call you.

I do not want to go to Davis, but I want to go to school. We should all go to graduate school together. Mary can transfer, we can all follow Liz. One year, one year, one year.

We are all so old, I don't want to get old, my brain is gradually turning off. This happens when we get old. I am writing a paper now on how Polanyi solves the problems of modern epistemology, escaping the relativism introduced by Kuhn, and others such as Putnam, by making belief and commitment basic to knowledge. "We know more than we can tell" he says, but Putnam says we cannot know anything outside of language, language shapes thought. So these are the differences. Just thought I'd let you know. But it is so hard to think in these categories, I don't know if it's because I've been out of school so long (3 months!) or if I'm just getting stupider.

When it rains, we will wear scarves and sweaters and we will sing Christmas carols and go to church on Sunday, and everything will be better. Liz, have you heard of Longwave? I really like them, you should listen to some of their stuff on Amazon or itunes. I want to relearn how to knit scarves with one needle, you know what I mean, but I can't figure out how to spell it and I'm not going to embarass myself. I wrote a poem today about America, but I'm not going to post it because people who blog their own poetry are losers. The Josh boy told me he was jealous of my brain, and so I said, "I am jealous of my brain too, it is very sucessful." I realized later that this could be taken to mean, "Yeah, I'm so smart, I know it" not as I intended it, "I feel as though my accomplishments are not my own, but belong only to capabilities that I have no control over. I wish I were successful in the things I have control over." Ha, well, there goes that friendship. Hopefully not, because it is nice to get emails, he is interesting.

Speaking of poetry, someone said poetry reaches with words into the wordless. I was thinking about this: normal language, rational language seeks to be accurate, not descriptive. Poetry to the rationalist is outlandish, because the night is nothing like a patient etherised upon a table. It is much more like a big dark room, even more like a big dark room without a roof. I can't even really write poetry, but I think the hardest thing in it (it's the hardest thing for me, anyway) is to not be accurate, to go beyond description into art. Even in poems that have few analogies, you're holding in the light that thing that all of your images have in common, and the more varied your images, the more that thing becomes more clear. Although I'm not sure varied is the right word, actually I'm sure there is no one thing images should be in order to make a poem good. And that thing described in poetry cannot be described in a traditional fashion. People say poetry is emotional expression, I'm not sure about dividing it into emotion and reason, (like poetry is emotional language and prose/philosophy/normal talk is rational language) because I think that many things cannot be explained in the traditional way, and it is not just things we feel, it is something we sense, in whatever way. That's all. Goodnight.