Eye Part Three

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Footlight MT Light:

THE STORY

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The Human Cliché

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The Human Cliché "Seat thyself sultanically among the moons of S aturn and take high abstracted man alone

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The Human Cliché "Seat thyself sultanically among the moons of saturn and take high abstracted man alone; and he seems a wonder, a grandeur, and a woe. But from the same point, take mankind in mass, and for the most part, they seem a mob of unnecessary duplicates, both contemporary and hereditary." Herman Melville "Seat thyself sultanically among the moons of S aturn and take high abstracted man alone; and he seems a wonder, a grandeur, and a woe. "Seat thyself sultanically among the moons of S aturn and take high abstracted man alone; and he seems a wonder, a grandeur, and a woe.

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The Human Cliché "Seat thyself sultanically among the moons of saturn and take high abstracted man alone; and he seems a wonder, a grandeur, and a woe. But from the same point, take mankind in mass, and for the most part, they seem a mob of unnecessary duplicates, both contemporary and hereditary." Herman Melville "Seat thyself sultanically among the moons of S aturn and take high abstracted man alone; and he seems a wonder, a grandeur, and a woe. But from the same point, take mankind in mass, and for the most part, they seem a mob of unnecessary duplicates, both contemporary and hereditary." Herman Melville

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The Human Cliché

The Human Cliché :

The Human Cliché There have been so many millions of people before this particular commentator who have already purloined and clichéd his heartfelt sentiments; billions of human lives gone before that have already consigned the remarkable phenomenon of a self to a dull cliché. Indeed,

The Human Cliché :

The Human Cliché There have been so many millions of people before this particular commentator who have already purloined and clichéd his heartfelt sentiments; billions of human lives gone before that have already consigned the remarkable phenomenon of a self to a dull cliché. Indeed, I have now become the clichéd forty-something year old, wondering what on earth has happened. Where is that teenager whom I never consciously stopped being? He whom I am sometimes transported to momentarily share the very instant of his being, through a dream, or the strains of long-unheard music, or the familiarity of a forgotten fragrance (madeleines were never commonly available in my neck of the woods but I believe the principle is the same). It is only the years hanging heavily upon us, wound arou

The Human Cliché :

The Human Cliché There have been so many millions of people before this particular commentator who have already purloined and clichéd his heartfelt sentiments; billions of human lives gone before that have already consigned the remarkable phenomenon of a self to a dull cliché. Indeed, I have now become the clichéd forty-something year old, wondering what on earth has happened. Where is that teenager whom I never consciously stopped being? He whom I am sometimes transported to momentarily share the very instant of his being, through a dream, or the strains of long-unheard music, or the familiarity of a forgotten fragrance (madeleines were never commonly available in my neck of the woods but I believe the principle is the same). It is only the years hanging heavily upon us, wound around our bodies like Old Marley’s chain, that create a difference between the earlier and present us, and we acquired them as naturally and unwittingly as did the old miser his. The Damnation of Fist

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…but existence is NOT ‘ a dull cliché ’…

PowerPoint Presentation:

…but existence is NOT ‘ a dull cliché ’… Is anyone’s life dull? I don’t think so, not in its actuality – the experience of it – not to one’s very aliveness . A person might protest that the wor

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Is anyone’s life dull? I don’t think so, not in its actuality – the experience of it – not to one’s very aliveness . A person might protest that the world may find them dreary: perhaps in their job, in their interests, in their meagre achievements, or in their limited circle of friends, but why is the world the judge? Why should we care what the world thinks? To us, if we pay attention, every living moment, in itself, is bright and sharp and alive. …but existence is NOT ‘ a dull cliché ’…

PowerPoint Presentation:

…but existence is NOT ‘ a dull cliché ’… Is anyone’s life dull? I don’t think so, not in its actuality – the experience of it – not to one’s very aliveness . A person might protest that the world may find them dreary: perhaps in their job, in their interests, in their meagre achievements, or in their limited circle of friends, but why is the world the judge? Why should we care what the world thinks? To us, if we pay attention, every living moment, in itself, is bright and sharp and alive. Look around you right now!

PowerPoint Presentation:

Is anyone’s life dull? I don’t think so, not in its actuality – the experience of it – not to one’s very aliveness . A person might protest that the world may find them dreary: perhaps in their job, in their interests, in their meagre achievements, or in their limited circle of friends, but why is the world the judge? Why should we care what the world thinks? To us, if we pay attention, every living moment, in itself, is bright and sharp and alive. Look around you right now! Do you see? …but existence is NOT ‘ a dull cliché ’… The Damnation of Fist

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YES! It is utterly wondrous!

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YES! It is utterly wondrous! There is, primordial to everything else we regard as human, something stronger and deeper, an essence that invests the world with something that feels so much like meaning that it must be meaning. The Damnation of Fist

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This story attempts to dispel the cliché

PowerPoint Presentation:

This story attempts to dispel the cliché by thinking about the cliché of one life

YES! It is utterly wondrous!:

This story attempts to dispel the cliché Since it can recall, my mind has been utterly beguiled by the miraculous and utterly mystifying fact of its own very existence. Why is there a me ? What is this me? I cannot answer such questions, but I do know that I truly am when I think. ‘Vivere est cogitare’ , said Cicero. Furthermore, thinking persuades the mind that, one day, should it have thought long and hard enough, it might actually hit upon the answer to the puzzle. So, like a fiendishly difficult mathematical problem I write down the myriad elements and hope that the solution will leap out at me. Do I address you then, dear reader, or myself? Well, I cannot explain myself to you if I don't understand me, and ‘ know thyself ’ was the chief command of Classical wisdom. ‘ Language most shows a man ’, said Ben Jonson, ‘ speak that I may see thee ’. For my own part, I must therefore suppose, I write that I may see myself. by thinking about the cliché of one life The Damnation of Fist

YES! It is utterly wondrous!:

This story attempts to dispel the cliché by thinking about the cliché of one life The Damnation of Fist Since it can recall, my mind has been utterly beguiled by the miraculous and utterly mystifying fact of its own very existence. Why is there a me ? What is this me? I cannot answer such questions, but I do know that I truly am when I think. ‘Vivere est cogitare’ , said Cicero. Furthermore, thinking persuades the mind that, one day, should it have thought long and hard enough, it might actually hit upon the answer to the puzzle. So, like a fiendishly difficult mathematical problem I write down the myriad elements and hope that the solution will leap out at me. Do I address you then, dear reader, or myself? Well, I cannot explain myself to you if I don't understand me, and ‘ know thyself ’ was the chief command of Classical wisdom. ‘ Language most shows a man ’, said Ben Jonson, ‘ speak that I may see thee ’. For my own part, I must therefore suppose, I write that I may see myself.

This story attempts to dispel the cliché :

Since it can recall, my mind has been utterly beguiled by the miraculous and utterly mystifying fact of its own very existence. Why is there a me ? What is this me? I cannot answer such questions, but I do know that I truly am when I think. ‘Vivere est cogitare’ , said Cicero. Furthermore, thinking persuades the mind that, one day, should it have thought long and hard enough, it might actually hit upon the answer to the puzzle. So, like a fiendishly difficult mathematical problem I write down the myriad elements and hope that the solution will leap out at me. Do I address you then, dear reader, or myself? Well, I cannot explain myself to you if I don't understand me, and ‘ know thyself ’ was the chief command of Classical wisdom. ‘ Language most shows a man ’, said Ben Jonson, ‘ speak that I may see thee ’. For my own part, I must therefore suppose, I write that I may see myself. by thinking about the cliché of one life The Damnation of Fist This story attempts to dispel the cliché

This story attempts to dispel the cliché :

…and how humans can think!

This story attempts to dispel the cliché :

…and how humans can think! It is folly to believe ourselves only that part of our mind knowingly guiding us through the evaluations, occupations and interactions of our daily lives, deciding how we might meet or retreat from the various challenges which arise. What far deeper impressions captivate us that we can never fully account for nor comprehend but yet are as much a part of the tale of us as is the mundane business of getting the various projects of our life from Point A to Point B? There is the delicious luxury of indolent daydreams, when our mind is cast adrift to float in ardent listlessness through all the sensations and imaginings of the shiftless moment, with no two thoughts needing joining to create the next. What of the arresting and overpowering response to music, when every concern of our everyday routine – our plans and our hopes and our worries – can be instantly and entirely suspended and our minds absorbed into, and indeed become, the very melodies and harmonies themselves? What of the incredible scope of our recollective faculty wherein whose vaults reside the countless constituents of our very understanding? None of the things we casually assume to know do we actually know until it we are required to do so whereupon, seemingly magically, we immediately and absolutely do: faces, names that go with faces, street names, place names, titles of books, words to songs, the countless tiny items of general knowledge which we absorb and assume as we proceed through life; even the list of topics that might be used to summarise this vast scope of archive material is so long as to be uncompilable .

This story attempts to dispel the cliché :

…and how humans can think! It is folly to believe ourselves only that part of our mind knowingly guiding us through the evaluations, occupations and interactions of our daily lives, deciding how we might meet or retreat from the various challenges which arise. What far deeper impressions captivate us that we can never fully account for nor comprehend but yet are as much a part of the tale of us as is the mundane business of getting the various projects of our life from Point A to Point B? There is the delicious luxury of indolent daydreams, when our mind is cast adrift to float in ardent listlessness through all the sensations and imaginings of the shiftless moment, with no two thoughts needing joining to create the next. What of the arresting and overpowering response to music, when every concern of our everyday routine – our plans and our hopes and our worries – can be instantly and entirely suspended and our minds absorbed into, and indeed become, the very melodies and harmonies themselves? What of the incredible scope of our recollective faculty wherein whose vaults reside the countless constituents of our very understanding? None of the things we casually assume to know do we actually know until it we are required to do so whereupon, seemingly magically, we immediately and absolutely do: faces, names that go with faces, street names, place names, titles of books, words to songs, the countless tiny items of general knowledge which we absorb and assume as we proceed through life; even the list of topics that might be used to summarise this vast scope of archive material is so long as to be uncompilable . What of the arresting and overpowering response to music, when all concern with our everyday routine – our plans and our hopes and our worries – can be instantly and entirely suspended and our minds absorbed into, and indeed become, the very melodies and harmonies themselves? What of the incredible scope of our recollective faculty? Wherein whose vaults reside billions of pieces of information, none of which are we aware until it is required, and then, seemingly magically, we are able to access it with complete immediacy: faces, names that go with faces, street names, place names, titles of books, words to songs, the countless tiny items of general knowledge we absorb and assume as we proceed through life; even the list of topics that might be used to summarise this vast scope of archive material is so long as to be uncompilable .

This story attempts to dispel the cliché :

…and how humans can think! It is folly to believe ourselves only that part of our mind knowingly guiding us through the evaluations, occupations and interactions of our daily lives, deciding how we might meet or retreat from the various challenges which arise. What far deeper impressions captivate us that we can never fully account for nor comprehend but yet are as much a part of the tale of us as is the mundane business of getting the various projects of our life from Point A to Point B? There is the delicious luxury of indolent daydreams, when our mind is cast adrift to float in ardent listlessness through all the sensations and imaginings of the shiftless moment, with no two thoughts needing joining to create the next. What of the arresting and overpowering response to music, when every concern of our everyday routine – our plans and our hopes and our worries – can be instantly and entirely suspended and our minds absorbed into, and indeed become, the very melodies and harmonies themselves? What of the incredible scope of our recollective faculty wherein whose vaults reside the countless constituents of our very understanding? None of the things we casually assume to know do we actually know until it we are required to do so whereupon, seemingly magically, we immediately and absolutely do: faces, names that go with faces, street names, place names, titles of books, words to songs, the countless tiny items of general knowledge which we absorb and assume as we proceed through life; even the list of topics that might be used to summarise this vast scope of archive material is so long as to be uncompilable . What of the arresting and overpowering response to music, when all concern with our everyday routine – our plans and our hopes and our worries – can be instantly and entirely suspended and our minds absorbed into, and indeed become, the very melodies and harmonies themselves? What of the incredible scope of our recollective faculty? Wherein whose vaults reside billions of pieces of information, none of which are we aware until it is required, and then, seemingly magically, we are able to access it with complete immediacy: faces, names that go with faces, street names, place names, titles of books, words to songs, the countless tiny items of general knowledge we absorb and assume as we proceed through life; even the list of topics that might be used to summarise this vast scope of archive material is so long as to be uncompilable .

…and how humans can think! :

It is folly to believe ourselves only that part of our mind knowingly guiding us through the evaluations, occupations and interactions of our daily lives, deciding how we might meet or retreat from the various challenges which arise. What far deeper impressions captivate us that we can never fully account for nor comprehend but yet are as much a part of the tale of us as is the mundane business of getting the various projects of our life from Point A to Point B? There is the delicious luxury of indolent daydreams, when our mind is cast adrift to float in ardent listlessness through all the sensations and imaginings of the shiftless moment, with no two thoughts needing joining to create the next. What of the arresting and overpowering response to music, when every concern of our everyday routine – our plans and our hopes and our worries – can be instantly and entirely suspended and our minds absorbed into, and indeed become, the very melodies and harmonies themselves? What of the incredible scope of our recollective faculty wherein whose vaults reside the countless constituents of our very understanding? None of the things we casually assume to know do we actually know until we are required to do so, whereupon, seemingly magically, we immediately and absolutely do: faces, names that go with faces, street names, place names, titles of books, words to songs, the countless tiny items of general knowledge which we absorb and assume as we proceed through life; even the list of topics that might be used to summarise this vast scope of archive material is so long as to be uncompilable . when all concern with our everyday routine – our plans and our hopes and our worries – can be instantly and entirely suspended and our minds absorbed into, and indeed become, the very melodies and harmonies themselves? What of the incredible scope of our recollective faculty? Wherein whose vaults reside billions of pieces of information, none of which are we aware until it is required, and then, seemingly magically, we are able to access it with complete immediacy: faces, names that go with faces, street names, place names, titles of books, words to songs, the countless tiny items of general knowledge we absorb and assume as we proceed through life; even the list of topics that might be used to summarise this vast scope of archive material is so long as to be uncompilable . The Damnation of Fist …and how humans can think!

…and how humans can think! :

Like thought, the story may meander… The Damnation of Fist

…and how humans can think! :

Like thought, the story may meander… I am finding Thackeray spoke well when he observed that “ there are a thousand thoughts lying within a man that he does not know until he takes up a pen to write ”. The Damnation of Fist

…and how humans can think! :

Like thought, the story may meander… I am finding Thackeray spoke well when he observed that “ there are a thousand thoughts lying within a man that he does not know until he takes up a pen to write ”. Off I go, rummaging about in books for sayings which please me – not so as to store them up (for I have no storehouse) but so as to carry them back to this book, where they are no more mine than they were in their original place. Michel de Montaigne …is fond of purloining a quotation… The Damnation of Fist

…and how humans can think! :

Like thought, the story may meander… I am finding Thackeray spoke well when he observed that “ there are a thousand thoughts lying within a man that he does not know until he takes up a pen to write ”. Off I go, rummaging about in books for sayings which please me – not so as to store them up (for I have no storehouse) but so as to carry them back to this book, where they are no more mine than they were in their original place. Michel de Montaigne …is fond of purloining a quotation… …even at times a little ‘ Montaignesque ’… ‘ Even despotic kings, even the ancient gods, couldn’t always dream the world to their convenience. It’s only children...who feel a wish and its fulfilment as one ’, and it is a brutal lesson to be taught that such a state of affairs simply cannot be sustained (How, Schiller, are we to ‘ keep true the dreams of youth’ ?) and it is beyond tragic that the child must realise the wretchedness of the discovery isn’t even original; that it has happened, is happening, and will happen to millions upon millions: that it is so mundane and commonplace it cannot even be considered a tragedy). The Damnation of Fist The Damnation of Fist (with acknowledgments to Ian McEwan and Friedrich von Schiller )

Like thought, the story may meander… :

…but this tale IS a tragedy

Like thought, the story may meander… :

…but this tale IS a tragedy "There are two tragedies in life. One is not to get your heart’s desire. The other is to get it.“ George Bernard Shaw

Like thought, the story may meander… :

…but this tale IS a tragedy "There are two tragedies in life. One is not to get your heart’s desire. The other is to get it.“ George Bernard Shaw

Like thought, the story may meander… :

…but this tale IS a tragedy "There are two tragedies in life. One is not to get your heart’s desire. The other is to get it.“ George Bernard Shaw

…but this tale IS a tragedy:

…but this tale IS a tragedy "There are two tragedies in life. One is not to get your heart’s desire. The other is to get it.“ George Bernard Shaw I have no idea how the present age would have responded to the fall of such timeless figures as Oedipus or Hamlet had their stories unfolded nowadays, although it is unlikely that the sensitive, sympathetic portrayal of noble dignity in its final adversity would have sold newspapers or attracted viewing figures sufficient for the more whimsical purposes of today’s media. But I chose a hero (or in a tale where arguably everything is below the level of tragedy except the passionate egoism of the sufferer, maybe we should call him simply ‘the protagonist’) with whom we can more closely relate; one who does with the success he achieves what we fear we might do: he screws it up. The Damnation of Fist

…but this tale IS a tragedy:

…but this tale IS a tragedy "There are two tragedies in life. One is not to get your heart’s desire. The other is to get it.“ George Bernard Shaw I have no idea how the present age would have responded to the fall of such timeless figures as Oedipus or Hamlet had their stories unfolded nowadays, although it is unlikely that the sensitive, sympathetic portrayal of noble dignity in its final adversity would have sold newspapers or attracted viewing figures sufficient for the more whimsical purposes of today’s media. But I chose a hero (or in a tale where arguably everything is below the level of tragedy except the passionate egoism of the sufferer, maybe we should call him simply ‘the protagonist’) with whom we can more closely relate; one who does with the success he achieves what we fear we might do: he screws it up. John, our hero (or protagonist) , is, I assure you, fundamentally a good man with The Damnation of Fist

…but this tale IS a tragedy:

…but this tale IS a tragedy "There are two tragedies in life. One is not to get your heart’s desire. The other is to get it.“ George Bernard Shaw I have no idea how the present age would have responded to the fall of such timeless figures as Oedipus or Hamlet had their stories unfolded nowadays, although it is unlikely that the sensitive, sympathetic portrayal of noble dignity in its final adversity would have sold newspapers or attracted viewing figures sufficient for the more whimsical purposes of today’s media. But I chose a hero (or in a tale where arguably everything is below the level of tragedy except the passionate egoism of the sufferer, maybe we should call him simply ‘the protagonist’) with whom we can more closely relate; one who does with the success he achieves what we fear we might do: he screws it up. John, our hero (or protagonist) , is, I assure you, fundamentally a good man with The Damnation of Fist

…but this tale IS a tragedy:

…but this tale IS a tragedy "There are two tragedies in life. One is not to get your heart’s desire. The other is to get it.“ George Bernard Shaw I have no idea how the present age would have responded to the fall of such timeless figures as Oedipus or Hamlet had their stories unfolded nowadays, although it is unlikely that the sensitive, sympathetic portrayal of noble dignity in its final adversity would have sold newspapers or attracted viewing figures sufficient for the more whimsical purposes of today’s media. But I chose a hero (or in a tale where arguably everything is below the level of tragedy except the passionate egoism of the sufferer, maybe we should call him simply ‘the protagonist’) with whom we can more closely relate; one who does with the success he achieves what we fear we might do: he screws it up. John, our hero (or protagonist) , is, I assure you, a fundamentally good man with a fundamentally good heart. However, as with us all, the operation of the human world upon him and his need to function in that world, so vast and impersonal that it takes barely any account at all of us as this astounding phenomenon of sapient being, must deeply affect his psychology. While he will retain every intention to do what is right, the line between right and wrong can become hopelessly blurred in a society geared towards self-advancement; in point of fact, in many places it is deliberately not drawn at all. The Damnation of Fist

…but this tale IS a tragedy:

…but this tale IS a tragedy "There are two tragedies in life. One is not to get your heart’s desire. The other is to get it.“ George Bernard Shaw I have no idea how the present age would have responded to the fall of such timeless figures as Oedipus or Hamlet had their stories unfolded nowadays, although it is unlikely that the sensitive, sympathetic portrayal of noble dignity in its final adversity would have sold newspapers or attracted viewing figures sufficient for the more whimsical purposes of today’s media. But I chose a hero (or in a tale where arguably everything is below the level of tragedy except the passionate egoism of the sufferer, maybe we should call him simply ‘the protagonist’) with whom we can more closely relate; one who does with the success he achieves what we fear we might do: he screws it up. John, our hero (or protagonist) , is, I assure you, a fundamentally good man with a fundamentally good heart. However, as with us all, the operation of the human world upon him and his need to function in that world, so vast and impersonal that it takes barely any account at all of us as this astounding phenomenon of sapient being, must deeply affect his psychology. While he will retain every intention to do what is right, the line between right and wrong can become hopelessly blurred in a society geared towards self-advancement; in point of fact, in many places it is deliberately not drawn at all. If this tale is a tragedy and this is John’s hamartia , then it may be so with many of us. The Damnation of Fist The Damnation of Fist

…but this tale IS a tragedy:

THE DAMNATION OF FIST - A Tragedy -

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