Monday, April 18, 2011

Umbrellas Unopent in Tempests, Part XXVI

Above, Itwethey displays her map of “openness”—the terrain Itwethey hopes to explore “in depth”. Though “openness” must be understood as a surface, with no vertical features, surfaces have topology (topography) and “openness” as surface has a particularly wonderful, intricate topology….The complexity of these folds are precisely the feature which has misled the acolytes and apostles of “openness” to believe they’ve discovered the unlimited. (“Openness” does wish to understand “openness” as the unlimited, and it has certainly set forth an “openness” offering a bounty of folds—Itwethey has been enumerating them, and though it would be premature—in fact would negate this inquiry—Itwethey bets these can be numerated. (Itwethey has placed a wager—that Itwethey will win, no one knows…Which, if you think about it is odd, because Itwethey is in the position to allow Itwethey to win, if Itwethey wants. Because Itwethey authors this?) The tripartite triumvirate IT-WE-THEY authors this, and the tripartite pronounial allows for honest wagers. (Even more so than “committees, legislatures, forums, salons, and yes, racetracks, and casinos.)) Here and there, an I-I-I has noticed these venues of probability “in the age of reason” have the appearance of being fixed.)))

We see that “openness” is not without its violent clashes…Itwethey calls “openness” a battlefield. (Itwethey has grinded his axe that this is a battlefield where sight, sound, smell, of conflict, is repressed—that this repression is what distinguishes this battlefield from other battlefields—Itwethey has ground that axe into the nubbins—prismatic fractalization of ocean spray, of cranappleCannesgoldorb, ground axe spraying submarine like unto ground rich with goldorb, ripe for the extraction and exploitation—But no doubt about it, the iron filings from this axe, scattered and haphazard, fall back into the “openness” battlefield…They are magnetic, as is the battlefield (the big-O-b) itself. They are magnetic, as is the battlefield itself. The battlefield, senseless to the conflict eventuating on its place—no less (no more?) deadly for this senselessness—is attractive.

If you look carefully at the map Itwethey has presented (above—must we always mention that? For sake of clarity or openness?) you’ll see Itwethey’s cabin in there. It’s somewhat below one of the nipples. There’s a solemn and this is to say gloomy valley down there, not exactly in one of the pores, or poorboy wrinkles, or places of neglect (unstitched, unswangled), or characterized such as it is represented in the map above, with a scattering of hairs (the forest, though harmed by warming trends and a long drought, is still “purty good” as faux wilderness, fer as modern, post-modern soldiers of nature be concerned (reasoned?) to judge), or patrolled over by the usual contingent of skin lice eating dead skin or whatever.)) There is no gold dripping from the nipples—not much is made of the sterility, milk-wise, of male nipples, nor their relative inferiority (in size, which is to say quantity, which, as we’ve been hammered to learn, is what males care about—why hasn’t there become a size competition between the sexes about breasts—oops, Itwethey has forgotten about man boobs.) )) As we are talking about nature (for no man did or would design a man’s nipple, or a woman’s boobs, and we only assume (though very, very commonly do) man invented the obsession with quantitation and then decided to make quantitating any damned thing would be the priority-purpose, though not the prior purpose, nor the prior of Christ Church, nor the porpoise diving through ocean spray to make rainbows! Children enjoy!)))

Itwethey will make a foray into the submarine world of the clashes of “openness”. Sectors of “openness.” (Sects are closed, as are cults, and part of the horror of “openness” has been the emergence of anachronistic cults. We all scratch our head at these anomalous and “irrational” results of our new and improved “open” ethics—we are better than this, are we not? No, the results are in: we are not.) Andy Warhol was open and was wounded (and crumpled up as open) by Valerie Solanis, who we regard as a recipient, every bit as much as the best, of “openness”. We assume Valerie had some wafer and/or wager of “openness” upon her—some from Warhol, some from far beyond Warhol. Why does “openness” clash thus? What restriction of space or time, what limitation whatsoever, cause these clashes? Is Itwethey wrong to require of “openness” some generosity and mercy to allow conflicting opennesses?


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