Comments on: A fetish I bet you hadn’t even DREAMED of…! http://www.paul-moor.com/2007/09/07/a-fetish-i-bet-you-hadnt-even-dreamed-of/ Life, people, and Kultur Wed, 27 Oct 2010 13:43:31 +0000 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.2.1 By: Paul Moor http://www.paul-moor.com/2007/09/07/a-fetish-i-bet-you-hadnt-even-dreamed-of/comment-page-1/#comment-180 Paul Moor Sun, 09 Sep 2007 13:33:34 +0000 http://www.paul-moor.com/2007/09/07/a-fetish-i-bet-you-hadnt-even-dreamed-of/#comment-180 Thanks for your kind words about this rumpus room, Jerry - and, once again, for your so kindly rushing to our collective aid with that swift replacement of those dazzling "rhetorical fireworks" (to borrow an apt term from Christine von Grafenstein, a Bavaria-based member of our merry band here) loosed, in Arabic, by that firebrand Los Angeles psychologist Wafa Sultan. Each of us does of course have different abilities, but don't let one thing about this hangout deceive you, namely that the way I write comes to me without quite considerable effort on my part. I seldom allow others to lay eyes on anything I haven't re-read, carefully, at least three (frequently more) times and often re-worked every time. Good writing means work, real work - for anyone. Googling has brought me no definitive answer as to the true authorship of a variously attributed aphorism that figuratively hangs over me (and probably every writer worthy of the name) every time we sit down at our respective infernal machines: "I <em>hate</em> writing. I <em>love</em> having written." Thanks for your kind words about this rumpus room, Jerry – and, once again, for your so kindly rushing to our collective aid with that swift replacement of those dazzling “rhetorical fireworks” (to borrow an apt term from Christine von Grafenstein, a Bavaria-based member of our merry band here) loosed, in Arabic, by that firebrand Los Angeles psychologist Wafa Sultan. Each of us does of course have different abilities, but don’t let one thing about this hangout deceive you, namely that the way I write comes to me without quite considerable effort on my part. I seldom allow others to lay eyes on anything I haven’t re-read, carefully, at least three (frequently more) times and often re-worked every time. Good writing means work, real work – for anyone. Googling has brought me no definitive answer as to the true authorship of a variously attributed aphorism that figuratively hangs over me (and probably every writer worthy of the name) every time we sit down at our respective infernal machines: “I hate writing. I love having written.”

]]> By: Jerry http://www.paul-moor.com/2007/09/07/a-fetish-i-bet-you-hadnt-even-dreamed-of/comment-page-1/#comment-179 Jerry Sat, 08 Sep 2007 21:48:40 +0000 http://www.paul-moor.com/2007/09/07/a-fetish-i-bet-you-hadnt-even-dreamed-of/#comment-179 In my old age, the clarity of determinism inveighs against my judgmentalism. The snake handlers in the south, the destitute, the criminal--it seems to me that no man chooses a life that leads to poverty, or dissipation. Those who were blessed to be born with intellectual capability and its companion, self-awareness, impose the notion of choice on others. I'm not certain choice obtains in either case. We appear to chart our own course, but I can never accept the notion that pedophiles and murders are people who choose their fates. I think our conditioning compels us to hard-wired, predestined outcomes. I know this is not related to the point of your post, but it keeps occurring to me as I resist my tendency to judge other harshly. I find some solace in allowing those who transgress against me personally and society in general, some modest portion of understanding. Though I am not religious, I pity those who are compelled to burden their lives with rituals of obeisance to supernatural forces. If you envision each human as the product of programming that was completed before they were 5, it allows you to express some compassion that is otherwise unavailable. It allows me to be comfortable with myself and provides an avenue for feeling that I am humanizing myself. Maybe I am delusional; maybe I am totally wrong. My own aging is about reconciliation. I enjoy your blog, and as I read it and compare your gifts with my own poor abilities, I think--how blessed you have been, while most of us have not been so gifted. In my old age, the clarity of determinism inveighs against my judgmentalism. The snake handlers in the south, the destitute, the criminal–it seems to me that no man chooses a life that leads to poverty, or dissipation.

Those who were blessed to be born with intellectual capability and its companion, self-awareness, impose the notion of choice on others. I’m not certain choice obtains in either case.

We appear to chart our own course, but I can never accept the notion that pedophiles and murders are people who choose their fates. I think our conditioning compels us to hard-wired, predestined outcomes.

I know this is not related to the point of your post, but it keeps occurring to me as I resist my tendency to judge other harshly. I find some solace in allowing those who transgress against me personally and society in general, some modest portion of understanding.

Though I am not religious, I pity those who are compelled to burden their lives with rituals of obeisance to supernatural forces. If you envision each human as the product of programming that was completed before they were 5, it allows you to express some compassion that is otherwise unavailable. It allows me to be comfortable with myself and provides an avenue for feeling that I am humanizing myself.

Maybe I am delusional; maybe I am totally wrong. My own aging is about reconciliation. I enjoy your blog, and as I read it and compare your gifts with my own poor abilities, I think–how blessed you have been, while most of us have not been so gifted.

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