EPIC FRIENDSHIP : Upward, Against Gravity!

Earlier this evening, I sent a random Google® Talk instant message to my dear, dear friend and former Shanti Project Social Support Volunteer, Wallace "Wes" Smith: my WALL•E!! His status icon displayed as idle, so I assumed that, perhaps by an off chance, he'd be free to join me for a spontaneous chat: a followup to the random instant messaged salutation he sent to me over the weekend. Little did I know that my spirited loquacity would suddenly seem to turn into a prosaically soliloquized epic ode to our friendship, of legendary mythic proportion.  

I felt so inspired to lavish my friend with lips-puckered, ass-kissed licentious lauding that what he struggled to read of my tenaciously frenetic fervor in typing seemed so awfully awkward in the contrived sophistication of its aggressively astute and alliterative prosaism and sophistry; so much so that I feel obliged to commemorate this haphazardly sententious and Homeric confession of best-begotten brotherly love as a disastrously dimwitted, maniacally meandering monologue, rewritten and posted in its entirety, herein below.

Heya WALL•E!! You totally left me hanging the other day, after you IMed me and then ditched in 10 mins, never to return to chat that day... Are you gonna have any time today to chat it up with me a little? I "yearn" to talk with you!

VOLUNTEERISM : SOCIAL CO-DEPENDENCY & WITHDRAWAL

Adrienne asked about you today, when we were walking to collect my weekly income check from my payee at Lutheran Social Services... She started the conversation by asking me my thoughts on finding another Shanti Volunteer.

I told her in a straightforward, matter of fact tone, "Well, thing is, I'm not sure how I feel about investing so much of myself into what's presumably meant to be a very important relationship in my life, if its just gonna end all of a sudden, and I am forced to lose a friend... again. I just don't think I could do that, at this point in my life."

She responded by asking, "Is that what happened with Wes? I thought you two were supposed to have stayed connected. Wasn't that your intention?"

So, I answered, again in a stoic, almost careless voice, "Yes, it was. But, Wes kinda just stopped responding and pulled away."

Her reply: "Oh, I can see how that could have been frustrating... [pause] ...and disappointing."

What I failed to mention to her was that I too hadn't made such a concerted effort in pursuing a sustained friendship with you, so it may have come across as me shifting blame all on you, Wes, which I regret. So, I commit to clearing things up the next time I talk to her, this week.

I just want to apologize, and say that Adrienne reminded me today how much of a giant gaping hole was left in my life after we ended our "professional" relationship. I MISS YOU!

Now, go take care of that "not so minor" issue that you're dealing with at work.

PETTY CONTRIVANCES OF A PSYCHO-UNSTABLE MIND

IF YOU'RE SCROLLING, YOU CAN STOP HERE NOW AND START READING AGAIN...

While you're off addressing that "not so minor" work issue for the next few minutes; a moment or two well spent by you, but better left unspent by me, I'm sure... I'll just continue my garrulously loquacious, leave-nothing-left-unsaid, babbling banter 'bout all the bizarre and contrite contrivances of my psycho-unstable mind, which have me anxious and worried of late, so that you can or may have an intimate and long-over-due peek into my perilously perverse and pessimistic personality! Hmmmm... Where did I leave off RE: Adrienne? Oh yeah... somewhere along the lines of:

So, I will be clearing you of the blunt force of blame for our reprehensibly reciprocal responsibility and our mutual misgivings vis-à-vis our dually shared and accepted failure to sustain our friendship past the point of its "professional" end.

I just don't want Adrienne to think that you were a bad choice as a volunteer. Heck, Adrienne already knows (I presume – and, if she doesn't, then she damn well should!) what an integral role you have played in SAVING MY LIFE! I owe so much to Adrienne for having stuck to her gut at the get go by pairing us together as client and volunteer... as would-be, could-be, forever-and-always "friends!"

RESPLENDENCE : AS "TACKLE-ANY-THREAT" TRIUMPH

But, more so, I owe much of my present success – my "Thank God! I'm thriving," tackle-any-threat, thwart-all-trials-&-traumas, tremendously triumphant and resplendent resilience, reborn amidst the tumultuously twisted travails of my recovery, rehabilitation, reconstruction and restitution of self – to you, my dear friend!

At the get-go, my joyous journey toward good health and happiness was gladly guided by the gentle and giving hand of a stranger turned beloved confidant, who courageously ventured well past reason, into a realm beyond responsibility where the rightfully righteous regalia and splendor of spirit dwell, to share his wisdom with a wounded, woebegone, godforsaken gay boy wanting of nothing more than exactly that which was delivered: LOVE!

My WALL•E!! Wallace "Wes" Smith
Facebook Photo, posted: June 16, 2010
© COPYRIGHT 2011 | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

SISYPHEAN STRUGGLE : AS PANTHEON TO FRIENDSHIP

I OWE ALL THIS FOR WHICH I HAVE TO BE THANKFUL TO YOU, MY DEAR FRIEND!

That is why I feel obliged now to persevere through the challenges of time and temerity, of entangled temperaments, of trials and tribulations brought 'bout by the blatantly bold, always bogus and unbecoming bastions of best-not-a-brick-wall-between-us "business."

To conquer – in a Sisyphean struggle steep & unsound enough to shake all shame, pride and courage from me – the cold, heartless and selfish demands of "convenience," in order finally to build the perfect pantheon to our still living, still thriving and resilient friendship, up atop the mythic mountains set between us

Let us together carefully carve, with courage & compassion, this megalithic monument to ME & MY WALL•E!! right from the Acherontic behemoth brimestone boulder that we together were once forced to push persistently past a presumed point of no return...

In a moment of inspiration, I lay claim to the rolling rock of our friendship as the necessary foundation of a forever extant and extraordinarily exultant temple, built to honor our two chance-selfless, yet yearning, souls. Thus, ad infinitum, we witness our two souls, serendipitously united by the unbreakable, ne'er tarnished bonds of brotherhood, made beautiful by perfectly platonic LOVE AND DEVOTION...

THE LACHRYMOSE, MOST LEFT SIDE OF MY MIND

LOVE AND DEVOTION duly deemed determined to destroy the could-be, would-be reckless and caustically corrosive contrivances of that aforementioned obstacle we've confirmed unspoken to speak of as "convenience." Agreed? And, don't worry, Wallace... I myself do not know what to make of all of this bombastic banter, either. It's all just "spewage" straight through the levies of the "last-ditch, last-chance, leftover" and lachrymose, most left side of my mind.

There, where my creative compass spins sporadically lost in all directions, a lasting light continues to shine. Despite the trifling trepidation and turpitude that has threatened to thwart the forever flamboyantly flagrant and fervid flame of our friendship, such incessant fear and intimidation still shall not stomp out our fire, nor even wash it away with waves of wearily woeful worry and doubt.

CONCEDING TO THE "CONTRIVANCES OF CONVENIENCE"

At very best, be it not 'bout time that we together concede to the "contrivances of convenience," admitting altogether that this could-be, would-be, whenever, wherever compelling of raucously chaotic commotion – preposterous pandemonium that continues to create a chasm of disordered discord straight through the center of our still quite celebrated and cherished friendship! – must be quenched, harnessed, muffled, exhausted, breached, and bridged before our bonds be beyond all possibility or chance of reconstruction, rehabilitation, recovery, and as well as – of course! – of redemptive restitution, in their own right?

My response to such discordance, as I hope would be yours as well in return, is this: THE TIME IS RIPE FOR US AT LEAST TO EXHAUST ALL OPTIONS!! The time is ripe for us to explore all earthly passages toward a point of position, where such a presumably implausible possibility of peace together might take its proper place ahead of all our pettily plebeian, yet boulder-like and burdensome, "CONTRIVANCES OF CONVENIENCE!!" Yes! The same phrase is refrained, as if for effect again, with emphatic force; of course!

I myself chose to remain courageously committed to the notion that naught near nothing aught keep us – Matt(e)o and his wholeheartedly happy-ever-after, astounding and amazing friend, WALL•E!! – from catapulting together the ungodly gargantuan boulder up atop the snow-capped cresting summit of a good-godly majestic mountain, there, where we have been meaning for a mighty long time to leave our lasting mark. Only this time, the behemoth rolling rock of our Sisyphean struggle should no longer conveniently contrive to create could-be, would-be impenetrable barriers and obstacles between us; instead, however, our mark shall be sculpted from that stone into the shape of a pantheonic monument, as previously described.

A SPLENDID TORCH : OUR STILL LIVING, THRIVING STORY

Tell me, dear, close friend and confidant – you, who once bravely buttressed the stumbling, fumbling, crumbling facade of my "fagged-out, ferocious, Fog City Freak Show," with naught near nothing more than mighty words of wisdom and a regular barrage of hugs...

Are you ready, willing and able now – dear friend! – to join in my cause courageously, compassionately, and without any cute and quaint "contrivances of convenience," to excavate, dust off, cleanse, polish and restore to its resilient shine the splendid torch of our still-to-be-told, living, thriving and triumphant story?

For, this story of ours, and ours alone, is the only chance we have together to inculcate our worse-off and ignorant brethren, by inspiring in them, as exemplars, an understanding and appreciation of the importance of our stolidly shared, striving, and thriving efforts to extend the life of brotherly bonds between friends well far past a few expectantly forgotten farewells, and all the way infinitely onward and upward, toward Everest or Olympia; there, where every man atop each his own majestic mountain may finally rest together, basking in the company of other likely heroes.

With this, our legendary tale of triumph through travail so quite unlike and contrary to others' staid or saturnine stories of dissolute dysphoria, we may finally and forthwith fill our heavenly hubristic hearts with the ne'er forsaken but full-force fuel of the forever-lasting flames of friendship: a fire from whose embers the diamond-crystalline core essence of our energetic enthusiasm, our exultant exuberance, and of our dutifully indestructible do-good-only devotion to and love for one another erupts as a miraculously mythical, flame-tailed fowl aflight.

A PHOENIX a'FIRE ... OF FRIENDSHIP!!

From the smouldering ashes of what could have been our failed, forgotten folly, "A PHOENIX a'FIRE ... OF FRIENDSHIP" shall burst forth in explosions of celestial brilliance and be reborn into so-white-hot-she's-red, resplendent glory.

This fiery immortal and all-knowing animal-prophet will take flight with unmet and outstanding wisdom, through the telling of our tale as an oracle of obligation and duty for those few who, wanting such to sustain the boundless and unbroken bonds of brotherhood, shall serve so many could-be, would-be countless, courageous others, as god-sent, spellbinding, and brilliantly living beacons of fire's light: the immaculately inextinguishable exemplars of faith in friendship and devotion to hope!

We must share with the as-of-yet ill-fated throngs of death-defyingly isolated, outright tormented and lonely others of the world our own unique unhampered hope in happiness, exponentially multiplied by the mutually endless and perfect power of our platonic love!

For, it is now, in writing and reading this quasi-Homeric epic enunciation of our shared story, that we bear witness to the very real possibility, the probability or perhaps even persistent truth which, pondered in properly mythic proportion, tells a time-willed and wistfully whimsical tale of the forever-lasting and eternal life of our fraternal love; such that is rightfully redeemed through the rapturous resilience of friendship's bond. 

NEAR TO UTOPIA : DANCING UPWIND OF DOOMSDAY

Through reincarnate duet dancing, such brotherly bonds that we share do tenderly touch our flat-footed heels and toes to the dew-dropped golden petals and emerald green glowing grasses of heavenly Elysium.

In our loving embrace of a fraternal order, our spirits sprint a fervent and inflamed, mighty marathon heat: a mad, mad mercurial dash upwind of Doomsday! Together, we freely frolic forward – as desultorily dithyrambic dancers do! – to unfold the footprints of those propitious gods who unknowingly lead us ever more near to Utopia. 

OUR WILDLY WOVEN & TENDERLY UNTANGLED STORY

It is this, our untold story – composed of a tightly wound, full-colored dreamcoat of woolen, silk and linen threads – which we must commit to continue telling, not only through its own wildly wondrous weaving, but also eventually through its tenderly touching but tough-knuckled untangling, as time doth pass.

We must commit to continuing our story, born of our passionately platonic and brotherly bonds of fraternal love and friendship. As long as there still remain even the most random and unreasonable threads of debauched, clashing hues to be woven into the coat of arms that sheaths and enshrines the time-worn epic corpus of our friendship against all brief abeyance and absconding of pages, we must never thread sparingly the spindle but only weave on with gusto, grace and gratitude.

Even now must our story continue, as – or, at last, until! – we stumble together surefooted, in our first few eager steps, high o'er the chaotically libidinous currents of the rivers Acheron and Styx. May we courageously coax ourselves onward, in our tumultuously trying trek, to conquer the Sisyphean mountains and the 'bout-to-be-bested boulders before us.

Let us gladly, gracefully, and with genuinely gregarious gratitude, thank gods for the heavenly happenstance and dear twist of luck that brought us together...

MS. ADRIENNE ELIAS : OUR SOLE HEROIC INTERMEDIARY

Or was it more, perhaps? Yes, indeed, I posit proudly and am pleased to say that we owe all for which we are thankful – which has made us far more fortunate than all but a few of our brave brethren esteemed and emboldened by love! – to the arguably naive and innocent, albeit wonderfully wise and bright-witted, instinct of our sole heroic intermediary: she, who carefully and cajolingly navigated us both each in the direction of the other... God bless Ms. Adrienne Elias! She, who brought us together!

Dear friend, I challenge we two to courageously commit as well to gratitude. Let us duly express our thanks to that "hip and happenin' queer grrl" from whose innate social instinct and stellar performance on the job was born serendipitously our most saliently stoic, solemn, and sometimes flat-out fervidly phlegmatic bond of brotherhood!

NOTE: Please, leave room for some "limp-wristed, fagolicious, and freaked-out," irreverently licentious PIZAZZ! Lest we forget to exaggerate such sibilant fricatives with our good, godawful "gay lisp!!" Hehehe! Even if I've added in an ounce of my own outrageously unrelenting and vulgarly splenetic sense of salacity... 

In honor and respect of the immensely lasting impact of Ms. Elias's offhand, off-the-cuff, but consequently on-target decision to pair the two of us as Shanti client and volunteer, may we permit ourselves to be empowered, me and you: Matt(e)o and WALL•E!! (a.k.a., Wallace "Wes" Smith), to continue our journey together!! 

PARADISE : LOST, FOUND & RIGHTLY RECLAIMED AGAIN

May we only pause to ponder past pitfalls and triumphs, as we resolutely commit still to climbing up skyward, toward the heavens, where at last we may leap together and dive dancing into the blissful beauty of the full-blooming and fruitful fields of our own emancipated Eden: Paradise Lost, Found, and Rightly Reclaimed Again!! by you, able-bodied and by me, with my "miscontoured" mouth and cane!! 

THE INDOMITABLY STURDY STANCE OF OUR FRIENDSHIP

Dear friend, Mr. Wallace "Wes" Smith, won't you please take your place once again right next to me? Would you so kindly permit me please to pass my arm under yours, so as to lock us into an indomitably sturdy stance, poised shoulder to shoulder, heal to heal, ready and raring to risk all our "contrivances of convenience" and to step simultaneously a few feet forward, toward our best-begotten yet unfurled future of good fortune in friendship, as confidants and family, as brothers and ... best friends? 

IN CLOSING : FRANTICALLY FUMBLING FOR WORDS

Eager to know all the thoughts which my epic prolix prosaism has left you to ponder, I now frantically fumble over a proper closing salutation, so that you may have the chance even to consider a reply!

Despite the tremendous chasm that has been carved between us by time, distance, and yes, even "convenience," I continue to cherish the profound loyalty and trust, which still – I hope! – defines our personal relationship, together.

Furthermore, with utmost confidence in the potential of genuine friendships, like ours, to remain resilient in their compassionate and caring capacity to reap reason from duly deserved recompense, restitutory requital, and redemption. Despite things gone a wry, I do very much happily hold you in the highest esteem. 

SISYPHEAN MYTH : A REFRAINED MOTIF OF RESILIENCE

While I wish we could be closer and have more time to spend together in each other's company, I still am very much devoted to seeing this expansively epic, Sisyphean myth through to the end of our long and illustrious, sometimes challenging, but always courageously and compassionately careful, caring and, of course, carefree journey together through life.

Wherever the rock of our friendship may roll, I hope, plan, and pray to be by your side, as we toil over the physical, intellectual and emotional mechanics of putting that damned boulder back into motion against gravity, by pushing and prodding it to the zenith of life's myriad mountains. With honest and unhampered hubris enough to mimic Homeric myth, may we own for ourselves together the ferociously thunderous and omnipotent force of faith, courage and pride in humanity; in other words, let us proclaim our pride in the human kind: a kind in which the God of all gods so often dares to boast believing! 

May we, like the God of all gods, one day boast, as unabashed and deep-bounded brothers do, of that piously peculiar Promethean fire, which has lit our flaming-feathered wings – where wax once was! – and which has lifted us into flight, skyward toward the heavens. There, settled contentedly into the soft, sumptuous comforts of Elysium, shall we have the untried and true contours of our still boyish busts carved out of alabaster marble stone, and beset – as if by birthright! – with perfectly pantheonic and divinely illustrious laurels dipped and gilded in gold.

Together, after a long life of shared stories – good or bad, iniquitously ignominious or spectacularly resplendent and successful – may we conquer all mythic challenges that good-natured guardians chose to cast o'er we two as shadows of sullen gloom, by holding tight to our godlike friendship with a powerful grip of fervent loyalty and trust, by climbing and cresting mountains with boulders before us, and by flying sky high toward the heavens as reborn birds of glory, with inflamed wings. 

TRIUMPH : AS CROWNED LEGENDARY EXEMPLARS

Ultimately, together, we will triumph and be crowned legendary exemplars of bravely bold and beautiful brotherly bonds, as we gawk and goggle mockingly in the face of those fastidiously funereal and dolefully despondent, godawful, good-for-nothing naysayers who near as never relent in their efforts to foul our flight and drag us down from the skies into petulantly vile, outright opprobrium. 

So, join me! Or not! Dare I fly, trek or climb this heroic journey alone? I pray to the all-present, all-knowing and all-powerful divine forces which guide us through life, with or without compliance, from birth to rebirth a thousand times fold, until finally we transcend all earthly contrivances and courageously trek through a frenetically fantastic phantasmagoria of all things transmundane.

Only then, once triumphed and transformed, may we yet be transeuntly transfigured into incomprehensibly perfect and indubitably divine demigod creatures meant to compliment the cosmically stellar, celestially surreal Olympian menagerie, where all other blessed, immortal chimeras eternally rest and reside. Join me? Lest I falter and fall, alone!

IN ANTICIPATION OF YOUR LOSS OF WORDS

As I anticipate your loss for words apropos of your likely quite surprised, yet delightfully honored and impressed reaction to my, as stated, ranting and railing "Homeric prosaism," I leave you with a poignantly simple and straightforward request: Please, respond if you would like, but only at your leisure!

The rest is better left unwritten, and shall stay that way, safely kept in the caressing arms of angels, at least until a time when the echoing voice of prophecy doth guide me (or you!) to give into garrulity once again and to wrench open our hearts with words of epic grandeur.

As one would say in French, my surrogate mother-tongue: À Très Bientôt, mon cher ami!! – Until So Very Soon, my dear friend!!

Ever most fondly,
Matthew

Respectfully submitted,
Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF
Matthew D. Blanchard
matthew@qherekidsf.com

San Francisco, CA USA
[20110601T234738PST]

Romance's Ripe New Reason...

Love Is Like A Flower | © COPYRIGHT {peace&love♥} | 23rd May, 2008 | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Accessed March 21, 2011 by QHereKidSF (a.k.a. Matthew D. Blanchard) on Flickr®

Inspired by the well-wishing of a college mentor: Adjunct Theater Arts Professor & Acting Coach, David Doersch, whose warmhearted wisdom woven into a few simple words beamed bright as day in my mind, I read his "Happy SPRING to All!" message on Facebook, while sitting blinded by the light of my computer monitor in the dark of well-past dusk.

Despite the dark and dreary evening that has befallen & befogged all of San Francisco, my heart & mind were filled with the warmth of the season by these, his welcoming words. And thus, such warmth, well-wishing & wisdom from such a distant friend & role model performance artisan or craftsman inspired in me a deep desire to express creatively exactly how I gladly envision the season to blossom into rebirth such beauty as romance in spite of ridicule, and love in light of sensually dew-dampened lust & longing.

What a beautifully bespoken first few lines of lyrical rhymes & reason have I set to poetry, as my poem is presented here poised below a quite provocatively romantic photograph, which I found via a Flickr® Photostream™ Key Word Search of "buttercups." I am pleased to recognize the talents of an anonymous artist: peace&love♥, and to thank the photographer for making available their significantly sophisticated & valuable works of photographic art for blogging direct from Flickr®.

I do hope that in posting Love Is Like A Flower, I will earn a right to download this particular image by permission of the photographer, him or herself, because I'd very much like to have this photo image at my disposal for future noncommercial & unaltered, shared-alike use. But, we'll just have to wait and see on the outcome of that such request. For now, I am still ever so proud at least to present the poem I wrote in response to David Doersch's Facebook® remarks and inspired by this photograph posted above.

SPRING! SPRING! What beauty this season brings
From slothful doted days to a few love-labored flings
That be right wondrous, yet ne'er more as pleasing,
As day’s blessed birth doth savor splendid seedling:
Few to many-petalled gorgeous golden blossoms
Of four-leafed clovers and buttercups so lithesome,
That doth glimmer, glow and shimmer as none before
Upon the tender-to-touch bosom in beauty’s open door
Of a fair merry-weathered, mischief-minded maiden
For whom the goodly fruits of spring be not forbidden.

Here upon doth the season's sweetly stunning affect
Forever bold and bravely full on forthwith reflect
The delightfully bright and brilliant sun’s fine speck
That doth in gleaming traces of sparkled beauty bedeck
Such sweet-nectar dew upon her delicately dimpled neck,
To be kissed off and caressed by a truly “très beau mec,"
As the only daring, dashing young dapper son "français"
Who doth so love, adore, long for and desire with to stay
The dewdrop damsel and her dazzling buttercup breasts,
As she, with toes dipped wet in water’s tiding crests,
Doth also long for and desire love — come what may!
Thus, so flowering, a fine romance is born this day!

Two lovers dance to life, in light of unending union,
The colorful reflections of romance's ripe new reason
Wound and woven, as a festive time-tinted silk ribbon,
Round the maypole, at the hands of all towns-children.
While the joking jester doth flagrantly flout Love’s luster,
His fickle halfhearted flaunter be echoed by such laughter.
Still yet two lovers dance ‘til lips tenderly touch as one,
Thus, their longed-for love doth live from dusk 'til dawn;
And be no more foolish, frolicsome, dumb nor dafter.
Than desire be that doth last still more ‘til then thereafter.

Respectfully submitted,
Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF
Matthew D. Blanchard
matthew@qherekidsf.com
http://www.qherekidsf.com
http://bit.ly/qherekidsf

San Francisco, CA USA
[20110321T200037PT]

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

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]

ON MOTHERHOOD: "Nature vs. Nurture"

While researching the meaning and popularity of my given name: Matthew, in preparation & as subtext for a monologue that I'm preparing for my Sins Invalid Artists In Residence (A.I.R.) Showcase performance, I "stumbled upon" the website, CafeMom.com, which conveniently catalogs baby names by category, popularity, date and by other distinguishing factors; the website also provides a social networking platform for expectant and/or experienced mothers.

The following is the complete text, which was intended to serve as my profile discussion introducing my puppy dog, TANNER'baby, as my first and only child. I discovered only after a few good hours of creative writing, when I tried to confirm my profile on CafeMom.com, that the website prohibited any discernibly male-gendered persons from accessing their social network as a member.

Nonetheless, I feel it worthwhile for me to post what I had written for their website, for the simple fact this, my essay: ON MOTHERHOOD, indeed reveals some very pertinent & potent aspects of my psyche, as they be related to relations with my own mother. In fact, what was supposed to be a passage limited to 500 words, turned into a torturously contemptuous tirade against my own mother.

I'll be straight forward with my introduction here, for I admit frankly & freely that this essay against my mother can easily be interpreted as damned vehemently vicious, venomous and cruel, if read out of context and incompletely; however, MIND YOU! This is a happy story!

Truth be told! This is a story founded on a sincere desire to love and be loved, to restore a stable, healthy, worthwhile and meaningful relationship between mother and son. All the pejoratives and derogatory vocabulary I use to describe my mother come from a place of immense sympathy, empathy, and love.

True, it is inappropriate to call such deprecation empirical, however constative my utterances may seem; being that these words are mere manifestations of my own severely biased, negative judgments and opinions of my mother. Despite the harsh tone and timbre of my words, I freely, confidently & gratefully admit that my mother's love for me (and her other children) is truly immense! 

In fact, I would even go as far as to argue that my mother's love of her children is so intensely, unfathomably immense that, just as the scope of Man's intellect is far too limited to contain and comprehend a truly complete understanding of the Sublime, the sublime love my mother has for her children fully exceeds the capacity of her imagination, emotions and intellect.

For this sad fact, my mother truly suffers, and I'd be damned if I didn't wish things different for her, for me, for us. Likewise, this sad fact defines and buttresses my own sympathy and love for my dear, dear mother, MOM!! God bless her, endlessly!! I pray.   

Before I begin serving up pleasantly sycophantic praises of my oh so adorable, high-energy & affectionate amber-haired Terrier-mixed mutt, permit me please to describe the context within which a 30-something, single, San Francisco Fog City gay man, like myself, presumes to find new friends amongst CafeMom.com members.

As a young queer, but closeted, college-bound over-achiever of teenage years, I sadly suffered the wrath of dysfunction born of my own mother's unmonitored, unmitigated manic depressive alcoholic binging & blackouts. Thus, I forcibly distanced myself mentally, emotionally, and yes, even physically (i.e., geographically) from my seriously sick and psychologically frail single mom.

Coincidence smiled slack-jawed some thirteen or fourteen years ago, when I first mandated distance from & distrust of maternal wrath & reign in my life. Concurrent to the disappearance of my mother, my benevolently better-intentioned & bigger brained educators innocently indulged and thus cemented my caustically cautious contempt for the schizoaffective, severely alcoholic & codependent maternal forces of my absentee and/or aggressively antagonistic family.

My teachers, to whom I gratefully granted custody of my capriciously prodigal intellect, introduced to me through scholastic study the convincing conclusions (i.e., covertly complementary bio-psychosocial arguments) of Francis Galton's Darwinian-based theories & theses on "Nature vs. Nurture."

By analyzing the extensive empirical evidence acquired through the lifelong, cutting-edge biological studies of his cousin, Charles Darwin, Galton determined the unequivocally evolutionist role of the relationship, first interpreted as dichotomic binary, between "an individual's innate qualities ('nature,' i.e., nativism or innatism) versus personal experiences ('nurture,' i.e., empiricism or behaviorism) [...] in determining or causing individual differences in physical & behavioral traits."[1]

Modern psychologists have come to criticize Galton's distinction between nativism & behaviorism "for its binary simplification of two tightly interwoven parameters."[2]

Today, the empirically extant binary between "nature" & "nurture" is more commonly interpreted as involving a relatively DYADIC (i.e., linked, interactive, symbiotic) co-dependence, rather than a DICHOTOMIC (i.e., contrary, mutually exclusive, independent) opposition, between the influence & impact of:

A.) "NATURE" : the uniquely concretive genetic profile of individual progeny inherited directly from their biological progenitors, and...

B.) "NURTURE" : the subtly nuanced psychosocial behaviors, traits and/or characteristics learned [i.e., "gain[ed] (a habit, mannerism, etc.) by experience, exposure to example, or the like; acquire[d]") from those individuals serving or interpreted as role-models, guides, or teachers within one's sociocultural environment.[3]

Today, in my "eyes wide shut," there no longer seems to exist a valid argument, but rather an agreement, between the concepts of "nature" & "nurture." In this vein, I see myself the son of a manic depressive, schizoaffective, actively alcoholic mother, who in his own time has perpetuated the traits, traditions and inheritances of his maternal line through severely catastrophic "quarter-life" crises.

Such crises began cruelly crippling my confidences, as far back as the Second Grade -- How well I recall that ineffable moment, when I was first called, "FAGGOT!" I often bitterly & begrudgingly recall the ostensibly laughable fact that, at the innocent, naive age of only seven, I was belligerently lambasted with brutal, brutish teasing for having erroneously defined "blow job," as being: You know! Like, when you go to SuperCuts®, and after the lady cuts your hair, she "blow" dries it!

More recently, these crises have tangibly & tragically crippled my mind, my body & my health. Fast forward to (or remembering in retrospect) the most ineffable, ill-fated & unfortunate day of my sad, sorry life: October 7, 2007.

Sure! We are now many chapters further along from my early adolescence, but this single day in my turned 'round story of survival & redemption is equally (if not astoundingly more) unforgettable than the years upon years of persecutions I succumbed to as a very lousy, lonely, lachrymal school-aged lad.

In early October, just over three years ago, I was found alone & on the brink of death, after what doctors now believe must have been 10 to 12 days of comatose confinement, brought on by overdose-induced, HIV/AIDS-related PCP pneumonia and a poly-microbial bacterial infection of the face.

The San Francisco Fire Department busted down my door to find me lying face-down & belly-up in my stark, unsterile studio apartment; painfully contorted and coiled up in the soiled, sickening sheets of my sullied, stained single bed. Blood streamed sanguine from my back-end, from my blackened necrotic nostrils and mouth, from the empty ethereality of my ears and eyes.

I was covered in my own vomit, urine and defecation, and all but nine of my teeth had fallen out "under the weight of my aching, dying brain." I had been forgotten, left alone, depraved & denigrated, deteriorating toward death; yet, by some ridiculously rare reversal of fate, I was rescued, redeemed & restored to life.

A rescue brigade – purportedly, a near dozen of emergency vehicles; all with lights emblazoned & flashing; sirens blaring in cacophonous mayhem and mercy – rushed me speedily & without delay, directly to the nearest hospital emergency care unit. After some quick and effective lifesaving maneuvers (i.e., blood transfusions, dialysis, wound care, heavy doses of generic antibiotics), my fading heart rate was stabilized; brain activity restarted.

Then, "a team of San Francisco’s leading diagnosticians, doctors & surgeons fought valiantly, yet failed so sorely to" curb, control and defeat the necrotizing bacteria which infected my face. Their only option, in order to ensure my survival, was the immediate debridement of all the necrotic, infected skin, flesh and bone of my once quite beautifully handsome visage.

For eight weeks, I remained in a drug-induced comatose state, with my entire head wrapped in white gauze bandages. After having amputated my entire upper jaw & palette, as well as deeply denigrate parts of my mouth, the left side of my nose, and my septum, a godsend group of most heavenly, heroic healers waited for the great gaping hole in the center of my face to heal.

Sadly, I cannot recall or recognize my selfless saviors, these "heavenly, heroic healers," as my mind's eyes were closed off to consciousness & seeing, while they worked their wonders on me.

However, you cannot conscientiously consider this lifelong continuum of crises after crises as mere counterfeit confabulations of my residual angst & anger, psychically preserved in the seemingly spurious spewing of my gad-awfully disgraceful, ungrateful gay boy guts.

For, however unrealistically severe sound my stories of sad, sad sufferance – both inherited & learned – the gad-damned destitution, destruction, deprivation, drug dependency, depression, disease and disfigurement, which have tortuously tormented me 'til present day, are terribly, entirely telling and TRUE!!

Still, such conspicuously catastrophic crises have, each in their own turn, torn me from the bliss of my not entirely outlandish optimism, inspiration, aspiration, hope and faith in Self, only to catapult me cruelly and contemptuously toward all but indomitable death; as if, as retribution for the heartless, angry animosity I've held toward my mother for my entire young life!

In spite, despite, or perhaps even because of my madly miserable mother, I have learned to survive great sufferance & struggle. Finally, at the age of thirty, I have come to transcend the pain, the shame, the disgust and disgrace, the disappointments, dissatisfaction & contempt.

I have languished and labored in battle over the brutal bereavements & bombardments of the neuro-psychobiological symptoms and side-effects of my bipolar disorder, schizoid-delusional psychosis and substance abuse; indubitably, inherited from my mother. 

I have also always often fought against my psychosocial behavioral impairments learned, gained or acquired by example, as the middle child of a hyper-dysfunctional threefold broken family, which manifest in my lonely life as parallels to my mother's last-ditch, last-chance, leftover life, as well.   

Yet, instead of still so stupidly sustaining such suffering in my life, I have in turn tended to cultivate a feverishly Faith-focused and thankful fortitude of smile, spine, spirit and psyche. 

This, I've learned or acquired, not from my weak and woebegone, miserably melancholic, mentally depraved & miscreant, degenerate mother, but rather from the countless coaches, counselors, providers, preachers, fans, friends and family who sit loudly lauding me court-side, during this furiously & ferociously fun game we call, "LIFE!"

My many loving laudators, whose encouragements, praise, counsel and commendations have rightfully and willfully replaced the disappointments of deprecation manifest by the damned near always drunken, depressed and indiscriminately desultory, dissatisfied, dreary but deadpan, stone-faced, icy, empty smiles of the mad, sad, sullen source of my genetic degeneracy (i.e., good ol' mother, MOM!!).

My many myriad advocates, supporters, defenders, patrons and providers stand tall, strong and sturdy as proud pillars of the wholly turned 'round reversal of my Fate.

Through a renewal of my Faith, a return to my roots (as opposed to my running away!), and my rightfully deserved Redemption, I've earned (as my mother would have, could have, and perhaps, still can!!) divine, sublime recompense for the determined, dutiful and devout good-doing and grasping toward greatness that I aim and am poised to achieve, through a careful, caring and conscientiously heralded sharing of my tall, tall telling tales of tempestuous turmoil and tragedy turned to triumph, after all.

These pillars of my survival and success have proven empirically, time and time again, through thoughts, words, sentiments, support, and – above all else – through past & present affection, admiration & ACTION, to be my guardians, my protectors, my heroes, my role models, my mentors, my teachers.

As I stand today so surefooted & secure in recognition of my Salvation through survival, I swear so surely to return to the origin, to the roots, of my Redemption, so that I may – God willing!! – give back to my guardian angels in gorgeous, gleaming, goliath grins of goodwill & gratitude.

I’ve joined CafeMom.com, as a thirty-something diseased, depressed, disfigured codependent; because, in spite, despite, or perhaps even because of the madly, miserable mindflux & mayhem which define the dysfunctional distance separating me from my mother, I aspire to find new friends here. 

I am looking neither for a new mother, a substitute, nor a replacement. However, I am looking for guidance from compassionate confidantes and role models, from whom I may learn how best to repair, restore, cultivate and nurture a stable, healthy, mutually beneficial, respectful and responsible, adult relationship with my own MOM – a wounded, weary woman who is oh so wanting of love; especially, from her estranged children.

For any future dialogues ON MOTHERHOOD, I will dutifully & discriminately describe the cripplingly corrupt manifestations of my own psychological frailty, social ineptitude & awkwardness, and substance abuse. A cataloging of my own many myriad imperfections, I presume, will prove them inherited and/or learned. But, from whom?

Does this question really remain altogether unanswered? If I have not at length provided a fully convincing & complete argument in favor of a DYADIC/CAUSAL/EMPIRICAL interpretation of the "Nature vs. Nurture" debate, as it relates to my life and to motherhood, then I briefly reiterate:

I argue adamantly that the utterly execrable, nefand, ne'er-do-well iniquities of my colossally corrupt character are ultimately my most reprehensible & reprobate inheritances: glaringly ungodly & grotesque gifts from my emotionally maladroit, compulsively codependent, maniacally defensive, nefariously perverse & irrationally self-repudiating mother.

While the "plentiful beatitude" of my blessedly blissful, infectiously intrepid, jovially just, fortunately fortitudinous, faithfully frank & fair, sacrosanct sense of survival, I've learned (i.e., gained or acquired) from the many "heavenly, heroic healers" who, hearts aligned in prayer, have held such a superhuman hand and played such a specially sublime role in sustaining my survival for so long, against such awful odds. THANK GOD!!

PERHAPS, some other mothers might find plausible, in my long, languorous tirade, the possibility for friendship & the turning of a page: a new leaf! For, while my tirade may have been told in a heated, contemptuous tone, I believe that therein lies loving, tender, telling TRUTH!!

PERHAPS, the love of mother & child might be restored here, starting with this still young, but no longer naive…; this still ridiculed & persecuted, but now more proud, tough-knuckled & thick-skinned…; this still mentally distorted, diseased & disfigured, but no longer depraved, dissolute, debased, degenerate, deteriorating invalid, now no longer deprived of love.

PERHAPS, this happily home-bodied, healthfully integrated & involved, ultimately indomitable and inspiring, safe, sane, sober thirty-something, solemn & blissful believer...; this no longer languishing, but still lauded lifelong learned laureate and lover of life...

PERHAPS, this “fagged-out ferocious Fog City freak show,” who is as delighted as he is grateful to have had so many successive second, third, and fourth choice chances to live again and again, may find it in himself here to restore trust and faith in family connections, in maternal instinct and love.

PERHAPS, this next chapter of my life might begin with innocently simple & patient, carefully & caringly cultivated conversations over my own compassionately p/maternal role as proud, proud papa of a vivaciously sweet, loving and affectionate two year old, gorgeous Terrier-mixed mutt, named Scruffy “TANNER” Thompson: my “PRIDE & JOY!!”  We’ll see!!

OR ELSE, my words are wasted… And, what a shame that would be for me: the marauder of one mightily mammoth & megalomaniac monologue! WINK! Like I said, “We’ll see!!” Thanks for reading… Cheers! Ciao! NAMASTE…

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[1]     Wikipedia contributors, "Nature versus nurture," Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Nature_versus_nurture&oldid=395464833 (accessed: November 8, 2010).
[2]     Ibid. (accessed: November 8, 2010).
[3]     learned. Dictionary.com. Dictionary.com Unabridged. Random House, Inc. http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/learned (accessed: November 8, 2010).

Respectfully submitted,

Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF

Matthew D. Blanchard

San Francisco, CA USA

http://bit.ly/qherekidsf

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