The weblog of Matthew Walker: MatthewWalker.net.nz, Otautahi, Aotearoa / Christchurch, New Zealand  
I believe in God,
only I spell it Nature.
— Frank Lloyd Wright

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  • Key: past three months [all time]
  • Word count: 1394 [172615]
  • Online for: 2268 days
  • Total posts: 10 [1357]
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  • Wednesday, 24 February 2010

    • Repetition in prose, poetry and lyrics

      Scott Carrier observes the world as if it's an alien planet. Everything is strange, and everything is on the brink of something. He wrote this:

      I was hired to interview men and women in the state of Utah who receive Medicaid support for treatment of mental illnesses generally diagnosed as schizophrenia. I had little understanding of schizophrenia before I began, and I have little more understanding now. I took the job because I had no other. I took the job because I'd just quit my steady job, my professional job, after realizing that what I wanted more than anything was to put my boss on the floor, put my foot on his throat, and watch him gag. Then my wife moved out, took the kids and everything. She said, "I've thought about it and I really think that this is the best thing for me at this time in my life."

      I was so firmly struck by the repetition here that I had to listen to it over. This was some months ago, and still I come back to it. The words are densely packed, and the repetition saves us from meandering sentences, from whiches, from buts, from on the other hands. Repetition makes emphatic.

      Joanna Newsom writes long and complicated lyrics that often draw in themes from nature. You can get lost in them, listening to the pretty harp sounds before they command attention again. Sometimes it's repetition that draws you back. The song has come in a circle and you have no idea how that happened. Perhaps "Emily" is the best example:

      The meteorite is the source of the light
      And the meteor's just what we see
      And the meteoroid is a stone that's devoid of the fire that propelled it to thee

      This refrain appears twice in the song, providing structure to the tangle, and providing a way in to the rest of the words. It is the most memorable part on the song, which is right as it is after all intended as a mnemonic.

      The concept of repetition was deeply embedded in the Mayan understanding of the world. However, it was imperfect repetition, repetition with change. Repetition like the curls of a helix, crossing slightly different territory with each return.

      Mayan poetry uses the structure of repetition, telling and retelling, repeating and enriching:

      'This is the writing, the speaking of the dream of a skilled observer, a person from Maccan[?]. Born of a lady who offers gems, lady shell star, lady of green lake, in the quarter where the sun sets, begotten by a penitent man who let his blood for three score stones, the lord who offers gems for the crossroads, a lucid artisan.

      This clip is from an ABC interview with Dennis Tedlock, and he says, "Most of the world that doesn't have alphabetic writing systems does verse that way [with repetition] rather than with a strict metre."

      Links:

      Posted by Matthew at 12:27:00 AM | Permanent link | Comments (0) | Email Matthew | Books / writing | Back to top

  • Tuesday, 23 February 2010

    • Keeping the beaches safe

      At thirty degrees, today was perhaps the hottest day of summer, which is not to say that it was hot, but rather that summer was not. So we headed dutifully down to the beach, a full 500 metres from the house. It was busy with children and dogs and girls and bikinis and cricket bats and everything.

      After a quick splash in the crashing surf, we was walking on the beach and intrigued by the oncoming vehicle: headlights on, driving slowly, lights flashing on top, weaving amongst small children and towels and animals. Sometimes, you see cars in shopping malls for some promotion and that seems wrong, much as does a moving car on a densely packed beach. I looked left and right for the emergency: perhaps I could do something heroic, or at least watch.

      But there was something wrong. Those lights on top were orange, not red or blue or white or even green or purple. Orange is not emergency-coloured. Sure enough, the vehicle soon passed, an elderly driver and elderly passenger smiling serenely, waving regally: Community Crime Watch.

      I checked around to see if any crime was happening but all I could see was a car where no car should be. It was a violation. More than that, it made me sad about getting old and being so afraid of crime that a peaceful summer day must be interrupted in case somebody uses the wrong towel or something. Afraid of crime or afraid of not being of use to the world? I don't know.

      Posted by Matthew at 11:28:54 PM | Permanent link | Comments (0) | Email Matthew | New Brighton | Back to top

Recent photographs

Smallness
Ocelot
Black
Stina and square
Royal spoonbills
Bachelor's button
Mimulus repens
Sea primrose
Saltmarsh ribbonwood
Eelgrass
Mudsnail
Selliera and glasswort