QHereKidSF @ 1/3-LIFE TRY!UMPH!!

UNDOING, Acrylic on Canvas
http://www.donald-rizzo.com

In an effort both to record for posterity the remnants of my once-was,  former social media profile presence and to update said presence with a spark of pizazz and pomposity, sycophantism and sophistry (as I might once have said before!), I am posting here my most recent yet previous profile as it has appeared on Facebook®, Google®, StumbleUpon®, and elsewhere.

As stated in closing, I do ever so much hope that my weblog visitors, fans, and followers do quite enjoy my writing. Recently, I have been receiving countless compliments – only out of common courtesy, of course! – with regards to the creativity and skill exhibited in my writing. I would just like those of you, who enjoy my poetry and prose, essays and extemporaneous elaborations upon the "thus, then, and therefore" of life, to know that really ... truly, I only write for you!

NO! I must say, I also write merely for the sheer peace of mind and cleansing of spirit I gain from this creative act of sharing. Thank you for your time and attention! Please view my updated Web2.0/Social Media presence profiles across the Web for an updated version of my poetically poised and personal biographical statement(s).

QHereKidSF @ 1/3-LIFE TRY!UMPH!! :
Mindflux | Matt(e)o | Mayhem! I am Man masked madly in mind's eye misgivings... The ubiquity of my ugliness is uncannily ulterior to my beauty beguiled, BeGODS!! Follow me for flagrantly unfettered, frenetic Fog City faggotry: garrulously salacious, in-your-face sycophantism and sophistry... You'll see! 

If by chance you get some crazed, cracked-out, masochistic satisfaction from strangely spiritual and surreal stories of misery, mayhem, and mutant monstrosity, then maybe I'm you're man! 

Meet ME, Matt(e)o: an evocative enunciation of sacred self. A "Gift from God" transposed as metaphysical motif by friend of the freak show, Fellini. This genius artist of Italian film-making struggled the length of his successfully storied career to expose, with astonishing exactitude, just how the very real possibility of perfection in Man is both fomented and fouled by the assertion and empowerment of an intimately equal mutualism between the divinely spiritual self and the meaningfully rational mind. This symbiotic melding of mind and spirit is represented by Fellini, in his film: La Strada, as the hopefully heaven-sent, high-wired equipoise of the fervently surefooted funambule: IL MATTO, who, when faced with danger, still dares to dance across a wire: ... ses doubles deboulés et son demi detourné, son seul somptueux soubresaut et ses battements développés. Puis jusqu'alors un ronde de jambe en dedans à la seconde fut souvent suivé d'un grand jeté en arrière; le Danseur Noble s'avance d'ici alors sur son fil, sans fierté blessé, avec d'une Arabesque en avant profondement penchée. Ces mouvements jusqu'ici ensuite se terminèrent d'un tremblement tout d'un coup des tours en l'air tombés ... Thus by tiptoeing so far from safety, toward the still bent, sunken, shaky, and unstable center of a wrought-iron, steel-corded risen rope, Fellini's funambule: IL MATTO, arouses such admiration, adulation, and affection from adoring fans, so as to inspire both the impassioned blossoming – in life! – and confounded crippling – in death! – of the purely innocent and naive, child-like mind. Consequently, I recognize symbolically resolute similarities and viscerally physical, real world differences between Fellini's representation of the metaphysical circus sideshow motif and my own efforts toward a more life-affirming reappropriation and realization of its meaning. As an Existential Nihilist (circa, La Strada), Fellini's obviously Freudian depiction of the psycho-spiritually multifaceted nature of Man culminated, not in possible fulfillment of his perfection, but instead in necessary realization of his corrosively calamitous demise. Contrarily, I aim to imbue the motif with an sense of urgently redemptive realism, through my own true-to-life, plain-as-day pursuits of a real-world psycho-social and spiritual sublimation of self. In this way, I see myself as one "Fagged-Out Ferocious Fog City Funambule Freak Show!" "IL MATTO" Matt(e)o, I like to call myself (cf., La Strada), as I conspicuously struggle to disempower and negate – through hope! – the nihilistic severity with which the existentialist cinematic artist ultimately confounds and curtails all possibility of perfection for Man.  

Gladly here, you will find one who can mesmerize the mind through his miraculous high-wire balance of benevolence & beatitude with damned near dastardly destruction, disfigurement, devotion & betrayal. 

Be touched tenderly here by the thoughtful “thus, then and therefores” that define the tumultuous, telling themes of my leftover, last chance life: Sanity, Sacrifice, Supplication & Serenity which spark our smiles! 

Sadly here, I reveal myself disfigured like a disgruntled, dirty dog. I'm doomed to die dismally destitute & destroyed! Despite that, I am devoutly determined to do deeds of damned near divine good. 

Remember my resounding recompense & reward for the very real ruination & ripping apart of my former, fabled beauty. No mockery, please! This mindflux needs no more mayhem! 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It just so happens... that this happy, home-bodied, head-spun homo aches for adventure outside of his squarely sparse and sterile, single-room studio. So much for the serenity of solitary!

I seek sure-fire ways to share in smiles! Feel-good, friendly encounters with compassionate, courageous young people who prefer spontaneity over structure, giggles to groans, wild, raucous, truly treasured adventures over lay-low, stay-at-home, humdrum, twiddle-your-thumb tragedies of time ill-spent and spoiled.

Oh to the brave, emboldened high-wire hopefuls who dare a single step onto my sky-high shaky string: Strength in Numbers! Hold the net for he who fumbles and fear not for this Fagged-out, Fog City Funambule Freak Show! as he falls a few steps forward.

In faith of friendships, past, present & so surely set to come...

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

AIDS IS A PERVASIVE PANDEMIC THAT BLEEDS THRU
THE LINES OF COLOR, CREED & CAPITULATES TO NO
ONE, BUT THE POSITIVELY AWARE AND
PREVENTION-MINDED SURVIVORS.
— Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF (a.k.a. Matthew D. Blanchard, b. 1979)

The personal profile text above is a corpus/compendium – of sorts!! – of the long labor of love of mine in which I have endeavor to capture through creative expressions that are uniquely my own the essence of my personality, my being, my self, while devoting great conscious energy and focus to my own artistic – albeit, sometimes quite clumsy! – use of particularly pleasing poetic/literary devices.

The text of my most current Web2.0/Social Media presence profile(s) has been recorded already via a post to this blog, dot429 | BUSINESSON&OFFLINE™ : a biographical statement & personal introduction taken from my dot429.com LGBTQA professional networking profile page (accessible only to registered dot429.com members): http://dot429.com/member/matthewblanchard.

If one of my own personal blog site visitors to this particular post (or to the other preceding post referenced above) would like to view my most current profile in the context of an LGBTQA professional networking site, then I would suggest that they should register as a member of dot429.com, or else simply view the INFO Section of my Facebook profile: http://facebook.com/mblanchard79.

I hope that you all have and do continue to enjoy the quality of my inspiration, my introspection and of my writing, as I've made it quite readily available on and transmissible via the Web. Enjoy!! Peace Out! Cheers, Ciao & Namaste: I bow to the gods within you...

Respectfully submitted,

Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF

Matthew D. Blanchard
matthew@qherekidsf.com
http://qherekidsf.com
http://bit.ly/qherekidsf

San Francisco, CA USA
[20110310T233047PT] 

Dictionary.com : "PAPHIAN LOVE TEMPLE"

Late this evening, I decided finally to sign on as a Registered User of Dictionary.com; and to my delight, upon viewing their homepage after registration, I was slapped straight over my short, lil' sliver of a misshapen schnoz by one right retrospectively referential (i.e., as robustly realistic painted portraiture) and new, yet unrecognized and erudite vocabulary word:

PAPHIAN : [pey-fee-uhn] or /ˈpeɪfiən/
— adjective

1. of or pertaining to Paphos, an ancient city of Cyprus sacred to Aphrodite.
2. of or pertaining to love, esp. illicit sexual love; erotic; wanton.
3. noting or pertaining to Aphrodite or to her worship or service.

— noun

1. the Paphian, Aphrodite: so called from her cult center at Paphos.
2. ( often lowercase ) a prostitute.

Origin:
1605–15;  < L Paphi ( us ) (< Gk Páphios  of Paphos, of Aphrodite) + -an

"Paphian." Dictionary.com Unabridged, Random House, Inc. 24 Jan. 2011.
< Dictionary.com http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/Paphian >.

On the Dictionary.com homepage, an abstracted meaning of PAPHIAN: Word of The Day (Jan. 24, 2011), appeared in large font just below the main menu of links of the left-hand sidebar. The definition there simply read: "of or pertaining to love, esp. illicit physical love." Surely, such a term and the words that define its meaning would catch the curious, meandering eyes of any unsuspecting Site Visitor or Registered User. 

Of course, one may easily recognize the obvious ploy that Dictionary.com Site Moderators had made to foster an increase in quick on the uptake "CLICK THRUs" and site traffic. Who wouldn't be immediately reeled in by mention of any word "pertaining to ... illicit physical love?" Without a single hesitation, I surely was taken aback and taken in. 

What allured me so to a furthered investigation of the multiple definitions of PAPHIAN was the alliterative resemblance this particularly patrician nominal descriptor has to that oh-so particular-to-me proper noun (i.e., "a great big fiery bird") from which my drag-burlesque musical number for "Resident Alien" – Sins Invalid Artists In Residence Show takes its title: PHOENIX a'FIRE!! 

In retrospect, as mentioned, I realized that this word (i.e., PAPHIAN) would have served as a brilliant addition to the alliteratively rhymed lyrics of my quite-so quintessentially QHereKidSF poemsong. Had I discovered the word weeks prior, I would have been able to elaborate successfully upon the song with yet another perfectly pedantic, prettily unplebeian, poetic term: PAPHIAN. 

But, alas! With our performances set to debut in 2 to 3 days, there would be absolutely no allowance of time nor attention dealt to QHereKidSF for the reworking of these lyrics. Such a feat would be impossible to devise! So, I was left a bit begrudged by my charismatically quick and cut-dry uptake of the term; however, my frustrations did not stop me from indulging myself in further investigation of the word through quotations. Little did I know that my linking to a quote by George Bernard Shaw would lead me to an unsatisfactory and equally enervating "dead end."  

Shaw's use of the word, PAPHIAN, is a masterpiece of the Reformist Socialist literary genre, which Shaw himself engendered; in that, his small passage of prose does preserve an eloquent simplicity of expression that is not hindered nor by pedantry, nor by plethora of challenging lexicon:

I THINK I WALKED THROUGH LIFE AT THAT TIME LIKE A SOMNAMBULIST; FOR I HAVE SINCE SEEN THAT I MUST HAVE BEEN PILING MISTAKE UPON MISTAKE UNTIL OUT OF A CHAOS OF MEANINGLESS WORDS AND SMILES I HAD WOVEN A PAPHIAN LOVE TEMPLE.

— George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950), Anglo-Irish Socialist playwright, critic.

The Irrational Knot: Book II, Chapter XIV, p. 286. Brentano's; New York, 1918.

http://dictionary.reference.com/wordoftheday/archive/2011/01/24.html

(accessed: January 24, 2011).

Indeed, to what "dead end" did I arrive upon accessing the Dictionary.com: Word of The Day page, earlier this evening? To my disgruntled dismay, Shaw's quotation on this page had no link to a separate but particularly applicable resource page, as is the usual standard for Dictionary.com. 

The extended source notes written in the attribution above, I discovered through extensive Internet research which lead me to the Archive.org original text browser for Shaw's The Irrational Knot, at the following URL: http://www.archive.org/stream/irrationalknotbe00shawiala (accessed: January 24, 2011). From there, I was able to enter the key phrase "PAPHIAN LOVE TEMPLE" into the file-specific search engine at the top-right of the webpage. Thus, I was lead to the exact page (p. 286) in the original work, whereon Shaw writ the quotation presented above. Below is the direct image of that page:

If perchance, Dictionary.com Site Moderators come across this blog post as a NOTE available on my Facebook Profile: http://facebook.com/mblanchard79, then I hope that they would seek to rectify the apparent "loose/dead ends" that are leaving site visitors, like myself, in the lurch. 

I kindly request that Dictionary.com: Word of The Day Quotations be integrated into the "QUOTES" Section and subdomain of the website; otherwise, those visitors to Dictionary.com interested in citing a source for these quotes will not be able to do so without a seriously deep dive into the vast cyberwaves of the Internet. 

And, of course, if Dictionary.com cannot readily remedy this perturbing situation with all its quotation source "dead ends," then could Site Moderators, please, at least add Shaw's "PAPHIAN LOVE TEMPLE" quotation, cited and attributed correctly above, to the Dictionary.com "QUOTES" Section and subdomain?

  

With these humble requests, I gratefully close this extemporaneous explication and evaluation of Dictionary.com: Word of The Day feature. I'm thankful to have been invited and encouraged by Dictionary.com to add a new word: PAPHIAN, to my ever expanding vocabulary. Furthermore, I look forward to continuing to broaden my familiarity with the numerous valuable features available to Dictionary.com Registered Users, as I embark now on a more informed, thus more frugal and less frantic foray into the depths of such Web-based Vocabulary Resources as those provided by Dictionary.com. Thank you!! Cheers! Ciao. Namaste... (i.e., I bow to the gods within you).

Respectfully submitted,

Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF

Matthew D. Blanchard

http://bit.ly/qherekidsf 

[20110124T222715PST]

San Francisco, CA USA

Alien Annuciation: Unearthing My Sacred Self

The following is a dramatic monologue I prepared for my SINS INVALID Artists In Residence "Resident Alien" Performance Showcase; however, this exact text will NOT be performed the evening's of the show. I therefore am now at liberty to share some of the copious work I have been preparing for performance during the last nine months for review by my peers. Please indulge me with your insights into this work; provide your own critical response and feedback, and I will be happy to take whatever you have to say to heart when considering revisions of the piece for future performance.

ALIEN ANNUCIATION:
Unearthing My Sacred Self

Fuck! Face it!! I’m a fagged-out, ferocious, Fog City funambule Freak Show — or Peep Show, depending on the scene [chuckles] — fabulously fucked in the head — HOLE! — for far too long [laughs outright]. FUN? For sure!! If by chance, you get some crazed, cracked-out, masochistic satisfaction from — OH! SO SAD! — strangely spiritual & surreal stories of catastrophic crystal-lined “Quarter-Life” crises, then maybe I’m your man!!

The mindflux & mayhem of this “MATTO” Matteo manifest as anxiety, manic depression, numerous non-specified personality disorders, coupled with devastatingly detrimental drug dependency and HIV/AIDS disease — BAM! Axes one through five, in no specific order!! My psychiatrists would all be proud. During the long-stretched syndrome of illness, disease & disorder that is my dismal, abysmal life, I was only ever once lost to languid torpor; torpor which turned out tantamount to torturous (i.e., id est… the ten to twelve days I laid unconscious, inactive & still; the skin & bone of my once boyhood beautiful face pressed flat, flush, firm & dying against a putrid, pestilent pillow).

Yet, for a time, prior to my tragically traumatic end, back before my whole “Fuck! Face it!!” mantra came into play, I once touted myself better than plainly pretty & princely. Back before my very real ruination ripped apart my smile; before antipsychotic psychotropics pretty much fucked up, tore down and all but annihilated my lachrymose libido, I spent my days super-speedy, sexed-up & salivating for raucously wild & raunchy “fag-fornication” – E, K, G… Crystal Methamphetamine sure’nough spewing from my sweaty, slimy skin!!

For lack of food, lack of sleep, but with no shortage of insanely over-indulgent fucking, I was led libidinally through a caustic, quixotic, voraciously vivacious and virulent six month schizoid-delusional messianic mania (i.e., id est… “crazed and cracked-out,” I told you!!). Here’s how the story goes…

After twenty-four-plus hours of positively preposterous unguided, temper-tantrumed and tweaked-out tantric yoga, I found myself falling flat on the floor from a backbend. In a glorious instance, I could both hear, feel and fear my mightily tight military neck flicker from firm to flaccid to flat with a couple of cracks and a crunch. 

Then, out of nowhere, but to my tearfully giggled and enraptured delight, the “cycloptic” serpentine energy force of my kundalini uncoiled itself three & 1/2 fold from deep within the pit of my scrotum, as if a cataclysmically massive monster cock was fucking me from bottom-end to top-end entirely. My phallic kundalini snaked its way like speed-lightening straight up my squarely smacked flat spine, erupting explosively through each of my leveled & loosely lain chakras. Past my shoulders. Into my head. All with a sparklingly celestial shudder of glee!!

My voraciously virulent kundalini energy force broke the blood/brain barrier with the cracking and collapsing of my never near too straight again neck, and was free!! At that moment, deep from within a blinding, brilliant light, I saw the rebirth and renewal of all life, the reunification and redemption of retaliatory religions of the World, embodied as a dying leafless triple-branched tree: a familiar scenic device of Beckett’s brain, symbolizing the existential nihilism inherent in “waiting for God…”

But, the tree at the center of my powerfully immaculate vision was quite unlike the grey, lifeless, hollow-trunked, death-determined tree that so thwarted the mindless meanderings of Vladimir and Estragon. The tree at the center of my celestial light budded a new growth, new birth branch with a single, glowing emerald green leaf which dripped dew of heavenly angelic gold from its tip.

Two Men Contemplating the Moon, ca. 1830
Caspar David Friedrich (German, 1774-1840)
Oil on Canas, 13 3/4 x 17 1/4in. (34.9 x 43.8cm)
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York,
Wrightsman Fund, 2000 (2000.51)

My kundalini force thrust me thankfully toward my heavenly father – at least, I’d hoped it would – through ungodly, goliath insanity and bliss. Thus began the potent perversion of my intellect, my psyche, as I set off on a profoundly esoteric and spiritually pious six month search for the “One,” Almighty God.

Six days to six weeks, I spent alone, shut up in my sparse, stark and sullen studio apartment, spiraling my insanity into a chaotic hoarded mess, savagely searching for God. No, I didn’t find him…or her…or them. Well, maybe them!! If you’re one to consider the sublime god force a pluralist spiritual entity, then I’m almost certain that my schizoid-delusional miscomprehension of individual life forces, as being all parts of a prophetically benevolent community of angel/aliens who had come calling for me as a veritable “MATTO” Matteo, would have intrigued and enticed both your own spiritual and intellectual curiosity.

So, I didn’t find Him (or “Her”) in my search for the Divine, but I did find my own angelic alien annunciation as a “Gift of God” : Matthew, for I believe with all my kundalini life force that during this six month psychosis, I was being suited by a community of angel/aliens for my god-given, divinely apostolic duty to proclaim to the World the imminent arrival of a purely peaceful, nonviolent, anti-diabolic Armageddon.

I was called upon, or so much I wholeheartedly believed, to return from the “deathspace” transexualized and impregnated with an angel/alien Christ-child to usher in the climactic rebirth, re-growth and cultivation of a global unifying force: a “Garden of Eden,” Elysian Fields, Les Champs Élysées leading into more than just a city, but rather into a World of lights, illumination, rapture!!

I speak of chakras and kundalini sparingly here; even though, these words as psychic phenomena seem to predominate my prose. But, don’t get me wrong! I’m a good faith, good Catholic, Christian boy of Franco-Polish Hebraic descent; therefore, the word “RAPTURE” should make more sense!

You’d sooner find me carving a Cherokee totem disparaging my colonial heritage as self-proclaimed proudly pompous, well-educated elite alum of Jefferson’s own “Alma Mater of Our Nation.” Hell! You’d sooner find me rigging a home-made I.E.D. car-bomb in my Fresno-based meth-lab storage garage while bowing toward Muslim Mecca – No, not GAY MECCA!! – as I pray in istikhara, and offer supplication for divine guidance on how best to cripple and destroy Judeo-American neocolonial forces.

You’d sooner find this white-bred, white trash, euro-mutt, slut, goy-boy American speciously boasting either indigenous or Islamic roots, rather than spiting my own just and good Judeo-Catholic heritage by following blindly the wisdom & stricture of Sanskrit/Hindi yogic faith teachings, if not just as a Eurocentric fad of the intellectual and spiritual post-colonial diasporas…

Yet, sadly still, contrary to my Judeo-Christian biblical heritage and learning – if even as a namesake, merely!! – I did neither see nor encounter my single almighty God, the Father: The Maker of Man, of me, of my mindflux, mayhem and misery. But, I swear on the last remnants of sanity and semblance of beauty that this mad, mad monstrosity of a man may have, I swear…

I saw something! Something real. Unimagined. Something immaculate. Holy. Sublime. In fact, I saw many things, which I remember vividly and in distinct detail, despite near half a decade of dutifully downing each dawn & dusk the fists full of psychotropics my doctors order me to take to keep pace of peace and order in my boyish, good goyish brain.

I could go on and on and on without a single smile – I could, and I should, but I wont! Anyway. – I could catalog… In fact, I HAVE cataloged pages and pages describing the many multitudinous manifestations of my immaculate enlightenment. I could retell my rapture. I could narrate my nirvana; translate my transcendence for you all – I could, and I should, but I won’t! Anyway…

And, why not? Because, trust!! You’d only spurn and scoff at my seemingly spurious, counterfeit, tall, tall torturous tale; even though, it be not torturous, but tender, touching truth!! Unless, of course, you are curious, and have come across us angel/aliens in our own right with open minds and open hearts, then there’d be no point in proclaiming the snippets of specifics of my all too perturbing albeit prophetic schizoid-delusional messianic psychosis.

Respectfully submitted,
Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF
Matthew D. Blanchard
Artist In Residence
SINS INVALID
San Francisco, CA USA
http://bit.ly/qherekidsf
[20110111T235237PST]

WordReference: La honte et l'apprentissage

Façons originales de traduire "CREATE THEATRE," et. al.
En réponse d'une demande de renseignements sur "THEATER" (c.f. MmePitchounette, Senior Member du Forum: Vocabulaire Français/Anglais, de WordReference.com), je vous offre de nombreuses traductions tirées directement de ma propre imagination. Quoique ces exemples soient tous exprimés en une voix formalisée de façon particulière, ainsi qu'en outre le français ne soit pas ma langue maternelle, il n'en demeure quasi pas moins que ces exemples restent valables et pourraient bien vous servir, peut-être. Voici, mes suggestions à vous (par l'ordre de priorité):

DISPLAYS THAT CREATE THEATER & BRING THE BRANDS TO LIFE...

a.) Portant un aura de mystique théâtrale, des étalages en insufflent un nouvelle force aux marques.

b.) Des étalages enveloppés de mystère du théâtre en insufflent une nouvelle force aux marques.

c.) Des étalages qui évoquent l'esprit du théâtre et en insufflent une nouvelle force aux marques.

d.) Des étalages qui créent une sensation théâtrale et en insufflent une nouvelle force aux marques.

e.) Des étalages qui donne naissance au théâtre et en insufflent une nouvelle force aux marques.

f.) Des étalages qui produisent l'effet du théâtre et en insufflent une nouvelle force aux marques.

Comme vous le pouvez voir d'après ces exemples, mon approche ou façon originale d'aborder une propre traduction de votre déclaration écrite comporte multiples tentatives de communiquer le même sentiment en diverses manières, par les activités d'éveil. C'est-à-dire, par le recherche, la découverte, l'expérimentation, le reclassement et le remontage des nouveaux mots de vocabulaire, on pourrait normalement réussir à trouver une belle expression éloquente qui se suffit à elle-même en tant qu'une bonne et propre traduction d'une phrase originale.

Si, dès le début, vous cherchassiez à dire/écrire votre phrase originale de manière le plus convenable: "Displays that create theatre and bring the brands to life," je maintiens une démarche assurée qui suggère que vous deviez tenter d'élaborer d'abord et puis accentuer d'une manière autant inédite que poétique votre usage de la langue française, afin de trouver "une bonne et propre traduction."

Une telle exercice serait non seulement un moyen d'arriver à vos fins, mais elle serait aussi un moyen de profiter de l'occasion d'approfondir l'aisance et la facilité avec lesquelles vous vous exprimez en français.

Voilà, ma philosophie pédagogique vis-à-vis l'apprentissage des langues étrangères:
La bonne pratique courageuse et aventurée d'un langage nouveau et expérimenté auquel on ne soit pas encore tout à fait très bien habitué, permettra aux apprenants d'approfondir leurs connaissances et capacités de s'exprimer en langues étrangères d'une manière la plus éloquente et raffinée que possible.

Il y aura certes quelques-uns parmi vous, les lecteurs et répondants de ce fil de discussion du Forum Vocabulaire Français-Anglais de WordReference.com, qui ne seront pas de tout à fait d'accords ni avec mes traductions suggérées, ni avec ma philosophie et mes conseils, étant donné que le français n'est pas ma langue maternelle.

Au moins je vous aurai fait comprendre et apprécier le résultat efficace, bienveillant et fructueux de ma méthode particulière pour déduire des pseudos belles et bonnes traductions alors que je possède au moins un peu de perspicacité et compréhension uniques et créatives de la manière dont NOUS: Les Anglophones Francophiles, pourrions le plus souvent arriver à très bien traduire une phrase de l'anglais en française (même si le français ne soit pas notre langue maternelle)!!

Bonne chance et bon courage, MmePitchounette... J'espère que tous ce que je viens d'écrire soient pour vous utiles et riches en renseignements. Vous trouverez certes de fautes lexicales et grammaticales partout dans celle-ci, ma petite rédaction sur ma propre méthode à moi d'acquérir et approfondir une meilleure connaissance de la langue française. Néanmoins ou malgré tout, j'espère ainsi que je ne fusse pas arrivé à me plonger dans l'embarras ni à me sentir gêné par mes plusieurs fautes. La honte est surtout l'ennemie de l'apprentissage!!

Cheers! Ciao & Namaste...
Cordialement,
Mathieu/Matt(e)o
__________________
M. Blanchard | QHereKidSF (San Francisco, CA USA)

Love as MOVEMENT! Love as LIGHT!!

Plato’s Phaedrus & Racine’s Phèdre

When desire, having rejected reason and overpowered judgment which leads to right, is set in the direction of the pleasure which beauty can inspire, and when again under the influence of its kindred desires it is moved with violent motion towards the beauty of corporeal forms, it acquires a surname from this very violent motion, and is called love.

– Socrates (469-399 B.C.), ... in Plato, Phaedrus.

When_desire_having_rejected_reason_and_overpowered_judgment.
Dictionary.com. Columbia World of Quotations, Columbia Univ. Press,
1996. http://quotes.dictionary.com/when_desire_having_rejected
reason_and_overpowered_judgment (accessed: Nov. 19, 2010)

I'm most familiar with the gut-wrenching, "violent motion" Socrates defines here as the transmutative movement of desire into so-called "Love," through my studies of the French neoclassical tragedian, Jean Racine, and of his exemplar piece of tragic theater: Phèdre (1677), a masterfully theatrical dramatization of similar dialogues on love, the soul, madness, divine inspiration, and the proper forms of art and rhetoric as found in Plato's Phaedrus (c. 370 B.C.).

Plato's use of movement as the main descriptive motif in this passage by Socrates fully respected the corporeal theater traditions (e.g., dithyrambic & choral dancing, pantomime, masks, etc.) of Ancient Greek Theatre. In Racine's Phèdre, however, light (i.e., sunlight, fire, flames, etc.) and darkness (i.e., shadows, veils, blindness, etc.) are the main motifs used to represent the transmutative eclipsing of desire by so-called "Amour.”

Racine toys with our sense of sight and sound, as he explores impassioned sanguine sexual drive, the blood-lust of maternal instinct, and the bloodlines of familial obligation, all through depictions of a furiously tormented tragic heroine who inches closer and closer toward imminent death just when prospects of incest surface as faits accomplis.

The following exerts of poetry from Jean Racine’s neoclassical masterpiece, Phèdre, offer decent textual references to and representations of the aforementioned motifs.

HIPPOLYTE
Il veut avec leur sœur ensevelir leur nom,
Et que jusqu’au tombeau soumise à sa tutelle,
Jamais les feux d’hymen ne s’allument pour elle.
(I.i.ll. 114-116)

In the first citation, HIPPOLYTE — Phèdre’s son by marriage, her peer in youth, and the man with whom she is madly in love — describes how the sole reason that his father, Thésée — king of Athens — took Phèdre on as a matrimonial conquest was “to bury” (ensevelir) the family name of Phèdre’s dead father: Minos.

Hippolyte goes on to explain how his father’s ulterior intention was to be certain that Phèdre submits to “his reign” (sa tutelle) as husband and king “until her death” (jusqu’au tombeau). Agonizing over the infamously vile and incestuous love he shares with his new mother, Hippolyte laments, “Never will the hymen fires shine bright for [Phèdre]” (Jamais les feux d’hymen ne s’allument pour elle).

OENONE
Vous-même, rappelant votre force première,
Vous vouliez vous montrer et revoir la lumière.
Vous la voyez, madame, et prête à vous cacher,
Vous haïssez le jour que vous veniez chercher ?

PHÈDRE
[…] Soleil, je te viens voir pour la dernière fois.
(I.iii.ll. 13-16, 20)

The second passage is a citation of dialogue between OENONE — nurse-maid to the new queen of Athens — and PHÈDRE which illustrates with very direct language the metonymical allusion to “maternity and the act of childbirth” (votre force première), or in the case of Phèdre, the act of breaking the maternal cycle by not being reborn to light again.

Oenone’s passage, which refers at once to “being shown and seeing light” (vous montrer et revoir la lumière): the light of impassioned love, concludes with a frustrated condemnation against Phèdre: “You see it, madame, and ready to hide yourself, / You hate the day for which you had just searched.”

This closing couplet of Oenone’s response to Phèdre’s plight represents an accusation against the new Queen that she is merely like a newborn child who squeezes her eyes shut to brilliant illumination (i.e., passion, life, etc.) in hatred of the day (i.e., daylight, light, life, etc.) that she was in fact just seeking.

Phèdre then responds, after three lines of erroneously omitted text, “Sun, I’m coming to see you for the last time.” In a very pointed and purposed manner, Phèdre renounces the sun (i.e., daylight, light, life, etc.) and essentially commits herself to death (i.e., darkness, blindness, veiled sight, etc.), for fear that her own furiously vile and incestuous passion would only cause her immense suffering in life.

HIPPOLYTE
Ma honte ne peut plus soutenir votre vue;
Et je vais…

PHÈDRE
Ah ! Cruel, tu m’as trop entendue.
(II.v.ll. 92-93)

The citation above is the exchange of dialogue between HIPPLOYTE and PHÈDRE which introduces, incites, and informs that which is perhaps the most masterfully written monologue of dramatic poetry in all of neoclassical theater (Phèdre, II.v.ll. 93-134).

This extrapolated, shared couplet represents the single most evident use of the motifs of sight and sound by Racine in the entire text of Phèdre. Coincidentally, it is the sound of Phèdre’s bellowed beckoning, which triumphs perniciously over Hippolyte’s own failed attempt to conscientiously object to the sight of his new mother-beloved.

I argue that the line: “Ah! Cruel, you have heard too much of me,” would definitely have ensnared the minds, thoughts and attention of any arrogantly aloof and detached aristocratic orchestral audience to the stage play, if played right.

The neoclassical theatre of 17th Century France was envisioned not as a théâtre du tréteau, but rather it was meant to be played on interior proscenium stages whose architecture was adorned with a garishly ornate & sumptuous decor of gold, whose scenic play space was dimly lit by candled footlights, and whose elite socialite & aristocratic orchestral audience was best lit by the brilliant glow from flames of a giant chandelier.

During the reign of Le Roi Soleil (i.e., The Sun King): Louis XIV, much emphasis, attention, admiration and accolades were lavished upon Aristocrats, who pompously paraded as living embodiments of neoclassical perfection amongst stalls of the orchestra and the loges of playhouses, such as Le Théâtre du Vieux Colombier or La Comédie-Française, for example. Rightfully so then, this audience of Aristocrats was cast in the brightest light.

If full attention was not being paid by ear to the languidly illustrious sonorities of Racine's dramatic poetry, then certainly an audience's eyes would be dully enthralled by the dazzlingly resplendent luminosity which cast a sublime glow over themselves. Thus, the carnal theater of la haute culture would play out in seats and aisles of la salle, while dramatic actors bellowed forth beautifully crafted rhymed couplets of dodecosyllabic alexandrins as inaudible room tone, in the shadows of a dimly lit stage.

The theatrical stage à l'italienne of 17th Century France was in all points of fact far more well-equipped than the contemporaneous playhouses of England, German and Spain. In fact, evidence has well been recorded into the timeless tomes of architectural history for the Neoclassical Age that depicts the Parisian playhouses of that period as touting many working innovations of scenic machinery.

One of these innovations, borrowed from the theaters of the Italian Renaissance, would have been ambient lighting overhung above the platform stage and behind the proscenium arch. As for the four state-commissioned theaters of royal Paris, it would have been possible therefore not only to dim and intensify the luminosity of these candled lights; but, with sheaths of heavily wax-coated and flame-resistant, colored paper, stage mechanicals of the time would have been able to create subtle changes in the tonality and hues of radiant light and shadows on stage.

When all was said and done, the théâtre à l'italienne of 17th Century Neoclassical France would have (and did) serve as the perfect creative space in which Jean Racine, Pierre Corneille et Jean-Baptiste Poquelin, dit Molière, could compose sumptuous dramatic poetry perfectly attuned to the stage, scenic & script conventions of that time.

In fact, I would even venture to argue that the poetry of Racine's Phèdre, ripe with allusions to the dramatic interplay of sight & sound, light & darkness, and life & death as representing the transmutative eclipsing of desire by "Love," was written for the specific 17th Century neoclassical lieu théâtrale in which it debuted: a theatrical space dimly lit o'er its actors, but brilliantly beaming o'er its elite socialite, aristocratic audience.

Respectfully submitted,
Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF
Matthew D. Blanchard
San Francisco, CA USA
http://bit.ly/qherekidsf
[20101119T180043PST]

WordReference: I count myself amongst them!

I'm not sure what led me to it, but after an evening of meandering mindlessly along on my cyberwaves surfboard, I 'stumbled upon" a very familiar website: WordReference.com, in search of the proper translation for the English/American phrase, "I count myself amongst them." The following is a complete exert from the most pertinent thread of the WordReference.com Language Forums (Italian-English) that I could find with a quick glance of the index. 

Below, you will find an original thread entitled "I count myself amongst these," along with three responses to that specific thread, including my own. As a header to the original thread and its responses, I have included the screen names, descriptions and links to the profiles of those persons who posted either the original thread or their own responses to it, including my own.

Let it be known at the onset of this citation, for the record, that I freely admit to having the tendency while in the WordReference.com Language Forums not of flaunting my inherently flawed non-native fluency in various languages, but rather of tenaciously tackling the gargantuan challenge of expressing my thoughts in languages that are foreign to me, by exercising my second/third language learning skills with much vivacity, determination and zeal.  

What does this mean, really? Well, for what most contributors devote a mere thirty words of explication, I tend to ramble onward and upward of about three hundred or more words, just to get my point(s) across — be they relevant, or not!!  It's exasperating, but undeniably exciting & fun, experimenting with words in such a way.  

For the case of this particular WordReference.com Forum thread, I leave it to all of my Italian-speaking friends & followers to cajole, console and encourage me with corrections of any sort! Thanks for the help, ahead of time! Lord knows, I'll need it!!

10th November 2010, 04:48AM PST

TONY DANDOLO

Junior Member

Native Language: English/Australian

I count myself amongst these

Could someone please help me to translate "I count myself amongst these." Context is "Many people find the buildings in Rome fascinating. I count myself amongst these."

Am I able to get away with saying, "Mi annovero tra questi"? Could I use the "ne" somehow?

Thanks,

Tony

10th November 2010, 04:50AM PST

BLACKMAN

Senior Member

Native Language: Italian/Sardinian

Re: ne and annoverrare

No, you can't. Your translation is perfect.

10th November 2010, 05:28AM PST

AKIRE72

Senior Member

Native Language: Italian/Florentine

Re: I count myself amongst these

"Molte personne sono affascinate dai monumenti di Roma. Io sono fra/una di queste."

But, you could also say:

"Molti sono affascinati dai monumenti di Roma. Io ne sono un esempio."

19th November 2010, 07:19AM PST

MATHIEU/MATT(e)O

Junior Member

Native Language: English/American

Re: Come scegliere tra una risposta e l'altra...

Se il mio italiano, oltre ad essere la mia seconda lingua straniera, non mostrasse perfino una grammatica perfetta a tacere di vantare una ottima maestria del lessico italo-europeo e della sintassi neolatina, vale ancora la pena di sapere come distinguere tra la giusta risposta od una risposta macchiata solo di grande stima.

Ma questo c'entra poco, salvo errori ed omissioni, giacché il dibattito sul soggetto delle varie traduzioni di locuzione verbale nonché preposizionale: "to count oneself amongst them," fu stato già trattato in lungo e in largo — sennò scritto "ad nauseam," così com'è detto di solito nel inglese neolatino — in tutto questo filo di foro.

Ci è bastata la prima volta qui quando fu stato già datto l'unica guista risposta, ma Loro la farò vedere lo stesso!! Per quanto ci possa provare, non riesco impedirmi di dire a Loro le mie opinioni, per il poco che possano valere:

Dopo avere fatto un imponente tentativo di giudicare le due risposte principali sopraccitate — una contra l'altra — mi sono a pena reso conto della grande differenza di significati fra le due risposte:

a.) "Mi annovero tra questi" è soltanto un esempio di traduzione letterale, esatta e precisa; privo di immaginazione, mentre...
b.) "Io sono fra queste / Io ne sono un esempio" sono infatti due esempi di traduzioni più idiomatiche che l'altro suddetto, a causa dei loro significati più plebei però fuori dell'ordinario.

Mi fanno piacere le due traduzioni di Akire72, perché, secondo me, rivelano una fortissima stretta della lingua italiana.

Nonostante fosse stato concesso al pubblico dei fori di WordReference.com così come sembrare fin troppo bene l'unica risposta conciliante e adeguata per Tony Dandolo: un allievo appassionato di lingue straniere, il primo esempio di risposta dato da Blackman non conseguiva niente oltre a lodare e stimare un principiante anglofono dei fori di WordReference.com a tal punto che l'inferiore non avrebbe appreso niente se non fosse per gli due altri esempi dati dalla fiorentina, Akire72.

A ogni buon conto ed a conti fatti, che diavolo sto facendo? Aspiro a riconoscere inoltre donde sono nati la confusione e il disguido in questo filo di foro.

Almeno ci ho eppure provato a distinguere tra una risposta non così proficua e una risposta esemplare che non soltanto mostra una struttura linguistica giusta ma pure che dà sfogo ad un espressione colloquiale facile da ricordarsene. Chi s'è visto s'è visto, non?
__________________
WordReference contributors. "I count myself amongst these," WordReference.com Language Forums (Italian-English). 2010, Jelsoft Enterprises, Ltd. http://forum.wordreference.com/showthread.php?t=1974223 (accessed: November 19, 2010).
 

Cordialmente,
Mathieu/Matt(e)o
__________________

M. Blanchard | QHereKidSF (San Francisco, CA USA)

ACCESS POINT – Point d'Accès

Depuis des jours, je me suis échappé à une vide créative, qui durait à peu près 4 ou 5 mois. Alors, je tente à faire travailler le côté gauche de mon cerveau, puisque j'y ai découvert un point d'accès à un trésor d'idées fortement originales. DIEU MERCI!

Some days ago, I escaped a creative void, which had lasted as much as four or five months. So, I am attempting to make the left side of my brain work, since I discovered there an access point to a treasure of highly original ideas. THANK GOD!

STATUS UPDATE – ORIGINAL

Depuis quelques jours, je me suis échappé à une vide (mieux dite: "une absence," un soif ou une faim) de créativité, qui durait certes à peu près plus de quatre ou cinq mois... Maintenant, je tente à bien travailler le côté gauche de mon cerveau, -- Là, d'où fonctionnent, non pas l'intellect mais, plutôt mon esprit critique et mes impulsions créatives! -- puisque j'y ai découvert un point d'accès à un trésor d'idées fortement originales.

La "découverte" et la "recherche" de ces idées et impulsions, ces expériences sont celles-là qui m'amusent, m'assouvissent et me satisfont par-dessus tout. Donc, c'est en reconnaissance de tous ceux-là que je proclame sans doute, ni honte, ni crainte:

DIEU, MERCI!! Vous m'avez certes béatifié et béni! Vous, DIEU, qui êtes le plus bienfaisant de tous autres saint-esprits! Dieu, je Vous dois ma vie!! Ne Vous inquiétez pas, car il n'y a rien à craindre. Je vous revaudrai toute celle-là. Je vous la promets!

Retournons alors au travail!

Sauf d'abord, il vaut dire à vous tous qui lisez mes mots et les comprenez bien, "SVP, Souhaitez-moi la bonne chance!!" J'en aurai certes besoin! Car, même si j'aie trouvé la capacité et des facultés avec lesquelles je puisse accéder à ma créativité, ceux ne sont riens sans une forte dose de chance...

Some days ago, I escaped a void (better said: “an absence,” a thirst or a hunger) of creativity, which had lasted certainly almost more than four or five months… Now, I am attempting to work well the left side of my brain, – There, from where functions, not the intellect but, rather my critical self and my creative impulses! – since I found there a point of access to a treasure of strongly original ideas.

The “discovery” and the “research” of these ideas and impulses, these experiences are those which amuse, satiate and satisfy me above all else. Thus, it is in recognition of all of this that I proclaim without doubt, nor shame, nor fear:

THANK YOU, LORD!! You have certainly beatified and blessed me! You, GOD, who is the most beneficent of all other holy spirits! Lord, I owe you my life!! Do not you worry, for there is nothing to fear! I will return the favor. I promise you that!

Let’s return to work!

Except first off, it is worth saying to all of you who read my words and understand them well, “PLEASE, Wish me good luck!!” I certainly will need it! For, even if I might have found the capacity and the faculties with which I may gain access to my creativity, these are nothing without a heavy dose of luck…

Cordialement,

Respectfully submitted,

Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF 

Matthew D. Blanchard

San Francisco, CA USA

http://bit.ly/qherekidsf

http://pulse.yahoo.com

[20101110T222547PST]

Facebook® POST (RE: R. Starner Jones, MD)

"CULTURE CRISIS" vs. "HEALTH CARE CRISIS"
Late, on the evening of September 20, 2010, I confirmed a Facebook® FRIEND Request from Matthew A. Elliott, a random acquaintance made via cyberspace connections to current Facebook® FRIENDS: Brandon Broehl-Phifer, and candidate for San Francisco District 8 City Supervisor, Raphael Mandelman. Out of plain & simple curiosity, I chose to indulge in exploring this new FRIEND'S Facebook® PROFILE, where I was shocked to find the following WALL Post, originating from one Richard Meckstroth, but re-posted recently to his own WALL by Mr. Elliott, himself:

Pictured is a young physician by the name of Dr. Roger Starner Jones. His short two-paragraph letter to the White House accurately puts the blame on a "Culture Crisis" instead of a "Health Care Crisis"...

It's worth a quick read:

Dear Mr. President:

During my shift in the Emergency Room last night, I had the pleasure of evaluating a patient whose smile revealed an expensive shiny gold tooth, whose body was adorned with a wide assortment of elaborate and costly tattoos, who wore a very expensive brand of tennis shoes and who chatted on a new cellular telephone equipped with a popular R&B ringtone.

While glancing over her patient chart, I happened to notice that her payer status was listed as "Medicaid"! During my examination of her, the patient informed me that she smokes more than one pack of cigarettes every day, eats only at fast-food take-outs, and somehow still has money to buy pretzels and beer. And, you and our Congress expect me to pay for this woman's health care? I contend that our nation's "health care crisis" is not the result of a shortage of quality hospitals, doctors or nurses. Rather, it is the result of a "crisis of culture" a culture in which it is perfectly acceptable to spend money on luxuries and vices while refusing to take care of one's self or, heaven forbid, purchase health insurance. It is a culture based in the irresponsible credo that "I can do whatever I want to because someone else will always take care of me". Once you fix this "culture crisis" that rewards irresponsibility and dependency, you'll be amazed at how quickly our nation's health care difficulties will disappear.

Respectfully,
ROGER STARNER JONES, MD

If you agree... Pass it on!
FACEBOOK WALL POST
By: Richard Meckstroth

The COMMENT(S) I shared on Mr. Elliott's Facebook® WALL were an abbreviated version of what I am now publishing to my own social media space on the Web. I'm altogether willing & ready to acknowledge that I had intended for this entire article to be shared with Mr. Elliot and his FRIENDS; although, I did do my best to condense my COMMENT(S) in a way that preserved the overall "positively progressive" tone of my extemporaneous opinion essay.  Here's what I wrote at length, without any omissions:

Does he have a point, really? 

Let me counter the argument extemporaneously,...

I've suffered from a disabling HIV/AIDS diagnosis since leaving The College of William & Mary (Williamsburg, VA) two months before graduation, in 2002. Conceivably (depending on your point of view and/or level of intimate experience living a closeted college life on the campus of an elite, albeit very conservative, small public "Southern Ivy" university), I was all but forced to leave.

Traipsing cross country in search of the solace of acceptance & understanding from like-minded, health-conscious homos, I chose to make San Francisco my home. Only upon arriving, without a penny in my pocket and desperately in need of support, did I sign on as a client with Bay Area Young Positives, Inc. (BAY Positives) & Larkin Street Youth Services (LSYS).

Both agencies offered much needed assistance, but what they offered that proved most invaluable to me was the means and wherewithal (i.e., advocacy, linkages & coordination of services) with which to apply and be accepted immediately for Supplemental Security Income & Medicaid.

I freely and shamelessly admit that, back then, I was little aware and in no position to be convinced of what good fortune I had run into; what, with access to universal health care and all. In spite of the care, guidance & supportive services I was receiving on a daily basis, I let my once promising life degrade into a dangerously absurd cacophony of unmitigated drug dependency/abuse and unmonitored, unmedicated manic depression & HIV/AIDS disease.

It was only after having recovered from a six month messianic schizoid-delusional borderline personality psychosis and AIDS-related PCP pneumonia that I was coaxed into pursuing employment by the gentleman who was then Prevention Outreach Coordinator and is now Executive Director of BAY Positives: my very dear friend/provider/colleague, Curtis Moore, MPH.  In January 2006, with a great turn of luck, I was hired on by FOLSOM STREET EVENTS® (FSE) as their Administrative Coordinator.

During a single year of employment in the charitable nonprofit events planning & fundraising sector, I was able/invited to catch a quick but fleeting glimpse of true independence. Since arriving to San Francisco, my time with FSE was the only time ever in the last nine years that I’ve been able to afford simple mundane luxuries, such as the immense pleasure of going on spontaneous shopping sprees to buy new clothes or amenities & accouterments for my TenderNob/CathedraLoin studio apartment.

In early 2007, after my employment with FSE came to an abrupt and untimely end, my life immediately reverted into a state of perpetual degradation. I freely (although, this time quite shamefully) admit that, at that point, I was still very much unable to accept or acknowledge the very fortunate position in which I had been.

Consequently, I once again allowed myself to turn down the dismally dark, dreary & dangerous path of the "party scene." Of the nearly $30,000USD worth of Unemployment Insurance Benefits I received from the California Employment Development Department (EDD) throughout 2007, I spent a total of $22,758.00USD solely on illicit substances & paraphernalia. Again, unmitigated drug dependency/abuse & unmonitored, unmedicated HIV/AIDS disease lead to what turned out to be my most cataclysmic & death-defying demise.

On October 7, 2007, I was discovered alone, lying unconscious & half-dead in my own bed, drenched in my own blood, vomit & defecation. My face was blackened with necrosis; nearly all my teeth had fallen out. For a second time already in my short, young life, I suffered from an AIDS-related PCP Pneumonia; although, this particular instance of the disease was drastically & dangerously compounded by an unrelenting, out-of-control necrotizing poly-microbial bacterial infection of the face.

Sirens blaring; the SFFD rushed me to the hospital, where I stayed in forced comatose sedation for eight (8) weeks. During that time, only San Francisco's best diagnosticians, doctors & surgeons fought to subdue, control & obliterate the pneumonia. At that, they were successful; however, they sadly sorely failed at doing the same with the bacterial infection that had devastated & destroyed my face. In order to save my sorry specimen of a warped & wasted life, they were forced to amputate my entire upper jaw, mouth and nearly two thirds of my nose.

The only good fortune I can boast of having during this tragic period in my sorry life is that, thankfully, the many millions of dollars that I have incurred in medical costs since late 2007 – when I literally lost all face to the devastation of illness & injury – have been fully covered by the federal & state public health insurance systems (i.e., Medicare & Medicaid).

I have had 11 surgical reconstructions since doctors first debrided the necrotic skin & bone of my face, in late 2007; I still have what will end up most likely being more than 12 facial reconstructions left on the books. As you might assume (what with the direction this article/essay has taken up 'til now!), I expect all of these costs to be covered by a public health care & insurance system.

Don't imagine for a single instance, however, that I haven't been intensely jarred, jawed and jogged into sublime, unadulterated consciousness (maybe, okay probably, for the first time ever in my young, short life) by the terribly unconscionable tragedies that have befallen me, recently. In fact, my life is on an upstart path toward resoundingly resolute redemption!

Despite the ubiquity of my bitterly unbecoming and brutish ugliness, I am on a path towards elaborate beautification and self-betterment. Since clearing the myriad mile-high hurdles of disease, depression, drug dependency and disfigurement, I have discovered a more righteous path toward self-acceptance, sobriety, sanctity and salvation.

In turn, I’ve finally allowed the potency of my profoundly pertinent story of and perspective on survival to turn me no longer in the direction of dependency (i.e., neither on State, on System, nor on DRUGS!!), but along a more promising path of fulfillment through autonomy & altruism (i.e., enough independence to be of worthwhile service to others).

Rest assured!! No matter what direction my writing has taken presently, I am as resolutely committed to living sane, safe and sober, as I am devoutly determined to do so without being reliant upon the System for sustenance & support.

Yet, as for this moment of my life in particular, I am desperately in need of immediate, enduring supportive services & care from a government which practices, as it preaches, in policies protecting our universal rights to progress & peace...

No matter what those other sad, sorry specimens of mankind choose to do with their lives in any given instance, I resolutely & astutely believe that we’ve also a universal right to be hoped for & hoped upon, as well as to have the realization of our purely plebeian potential for salvation through redemption shamelessly, solemnly sanctified, supported & assured by a government founded on what I call “fore-fathered philosophies of happily helped & unhampered human fulfillment.”

Without Medicare & Medicaid, I would have been nothing but left for dead. Now, if anything, I can boast of having not only a marred & mangled, most misfortunate, Tina-torn & AIDS-quilted tapestry of scars, skin-grafts, and flaps of flesh festooning my funny, freakish face, but also a very potent & powerful determination to survive beyond all odds, to beat the odds, and become one hell of a stand-up, admirable, fabulously fagged-out & fortunate Fog City fellow, who’s done something smart with his story of sheer, shamefully scary stupidity & selfishness.

Who knows!? Maybe in writing this comment here on the “WALL” of some random new Facebook® FRIEND of mine, I have effectively furthered my first few footsteps of foray down the path of right direction (although, albeit skewed way to the far left of some people’s fancy!!).

Maybe in writing this comment, I have effectively initiated my endeavor to affect truly positive change in the world; otherwise, I don’t imagine that the giant PLUS SIGN (+) plastered on every last page of my medical record would prove to amount to much of any sort of inspiration for my own (or anyone else, for that matter!) piety, pedantry, and purely pulchritudinous progress in the World. Let’s hope the best for us!! For, if not, nothing’s left but the worst of us…

Most respectfully, and…
Sincerely submitted,

Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF
Matthew D. Blanchard
San Francisco, CA USA
[20100921T011437PST]

http://bit.ly/qherekidsf
http://twitter.com/QHereKidSF
http://facebook.com/mblanchard79

What do you think, after reading this?? Whose side do you favor; that of the conservative interpretation of "CULTURE CRISIS" (How very "TEAPARTY," n'est-ce pas?) or that of the progressive's point of view: the ulterior acceptance and mainstream, status quo point of view of "HEALTH CARE CRISIS"?

What I can say in defense of the conservative interpretation is that "CHANGE" in my life has been slow in coming; but when it did finally come, it came in heaps & heaps, loads & loads, bounds & bounds, and tons & tons of tough-knuckled know-how, not begot happiness, self-betterment, beatitude & beautification!

I'm not sure if "CHANGE" is meant to come at the same pace for everyone on this Earth; however, as for myself, I am oh-so-glad that change has arrived and is in the works for me. Still, I mean/t every word I have herein writ. So, in closing, I will gladly reiterate: "Let's hope the best for us!! For, if not, nothing's left but the worst of us..."

Star-Spangled KITSCH, by C. BROWN (1975)

"Camp mocks bad taste..." | Dictionary.com

In short, camp mocks bad taste; kitsch exploits it. Camp arouses our sense of the ridiculous, and we respond with amused tolerance. When we see Bette Davis or Ruth Gordon, fine if sometimes flamboyant performers relax their self-discipline and over-extend their acting technique in a superfluity of ineffective gestures �— finger-twitching and hip-switching, hand-rubbing or hip-protruding — we label the sum total as camp. Mae West, whose nasally provocative delivery, eye-rolling, lip-pursing, and pelvic tics parody the conventional invitation to dalliance, is never out of control and is camp, pure and simple.... Camp was also the stock-in-trade of Carmen Miranda, whose retina-searing Technicolor® get-ups, skyscraper headdresses bearing a season's fruit harvest, clomping platform shoes and garbled English projected in a voice that could be heard on Mars, all came together beautifully in her campy personification of Exaggeration. Had we been blessed with the Brazilian Bombshell's own blazing interpretation of Joan of Arc, the grotesque, if fascinating, result would surely have been kitsch.

CURTIS F. BROWN, "Is It Kitsch or Is It Camp?"

Star-Spangled Kitsch (Universe Books, 1975)

STAR-SPANGLED KITSCH
[Universe Books, 1975]

In his essay entitled, "Is It Kitsch or Is It Camp?" from his collection of short works entitled Star-Spangled Kitsch (Universe Books, 1975), Curtis F. Brown eruditely elucidates the defining distinction(s) between that which is "KITSCH" and that which is "CAMP," all in one cohesively concise construct of written communication, saying, "In short, camp mocks bad taste; kitsch exploits it."

Brown buttresses his thesis with reinforcing remarks and observations about four infamously celebrated female film performers of the early B&W turned Technicolor® era of American cinema: Betty Davis, Ruth Gordon, Mae West and Carmen Miranda.

The "kitsch/camp" theorist discusses in a mellifluously colorful and contemporary manner the conventions of that which is most distinctly "CAMP," pointing out that the flamboyant, quizzically quixotic & chimerical (Oh! Just call it straight up as it is: QUEER!) gesticulations and glaringly gaudy "get-ups" (i.e., accouterments, accessories, costumes, clothing, etc.) of these brazenly garish gals often served as parodic personifications and pasquinade of archetypal character traits, concepts, customs, behaviors or mores.

Mae West, for example, "whose nasally provocative delivery, eye-rolling, lip-pursing, and pelvic tics parody the conventional invitation to dalliance, is never out of control and is camp, pure and simple....," writes Brown, in his deliberately descriptive and constatively conclusive manner.

These parodist-performers personify not real or fictitious characters, personalities or people, but caricature in a conspicuously comedic fashion, with flagitiously flamboyant, frivolous fervor and right raucous, rambunctious repugnance, the conventions contrived of by our own seemingly sophisticated society, thus satirized it/us on stage and screen as "CAMP."

Were the performers actually in fact meant to interpret an historical personage, character or role writ from real life, the resultant (re)presentation would be ultimately defined as "KITSCH." Brown explains this distinct concept explicitly by referencing Carmen Miranda: "Had we been blessed with the Brazilian Bombshell's own blazing interpretation of Joan of Arc, the grotesque, if fascinating, result would surely have been kitsch."

Thus, then, and therefore, Brown describes two definitively dueling depictions of parodic satire "à la burlesque" and deems the two archetypal performance styles either distinctly "CAMP" or distinctly "KITSCH" (i.e., Brown's "kitsch/camp" thesis or theory).

I highly recommend to anyone interested in the study and/or performance of parodic satire "à la burlesque" by the infamously venerated female celebrity actors of the "Old Film" era or otherwise in the dichotomically "camp/kitsch" performances of contemporary female celebrity impersonators (i.e., drag queens!!) of the "Old School," at least to link to this abstracted quotation from Curtis F. Brown's definitive discourse on the dichotomic binary between all that is "CAMP" and all that is "KITSCH."

I myself find that this quotation intrigues the mind enough to motivate the reader immediately to seek out the source-text for further reading. I myself am going straight to the library today to check out Star-Spangled Kitsch, by Curtis F. Brown, so that I might completely immerse myself in the study of this profoundly erudite performance discourse; thus, then, and therefore, to inaugurate finally my fanatically fervid, right reasonably well-directed and derived research into the art of drag performance and of female impersonators as entertainers, both historically and contemporaneously, or could be possibly even maybe more.... We'll see!!

Thanks Dictionary.com for having serendipitously set my path of discovery in the direction of this dichotomic "kitsch/camp" discourse, so that I might delve deliberately even deeper into the subject matter as it relates to the art(s) of DRAG!! I never knew nor thought that this so easily navigable virtual reference library would spur on my determined effort to educate myself so thoroughly, dutifully and delightfully, all at once...

"In short, camp mocks bad taste; kitsch exploits..." Columbia World of Quotations, Columbia University Press, 1996. 10 Aug. 2010. Dictionary.com http://quotes.dictionary.com/In_short_camp_mocks_bad_taste_kitsch_exploits.
 
Respectfully submitted,
Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF
Matthew D. Blanchard
San Francisco, CA USA
[20100810T094249PST]  

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