I think about this sometimes when I am writing and I find the familiar sayings filling in for the void in my logic . . .
Not that my parody does justice to Larkin, the great librarian-poet and jazz critic.
But really, I find myself asking . . .
What are these clichés for,
all these familiar sayings
about where we live, who we are, what we do . . .
They come, they speak to me and for me
time and time again . . .
Days
by Philip Larkin
What are days for?
Days are where we live.
They come, they wake us
Time and time over.
They are to be happy in:
Where can we live but days?
Ah, solving that question
Brings the priest and the doctor
In their long coats
Running over the fields.
3 comments:
Actually, I think you've profited Larkin and added to his words and thoughts. From now on, perhaps these should be published in tandem. Does chalk still exist, though? Curtis
Nin,
I love the weigh the heavy questions and books seem to way upon the earnest yet hapless cartoon fellow.
Sometimes it all seems just too much! he seems to be thinking (if unable to say).
My friends & I have adopted our own way of saying this sort of saying you've said a great deal: "hand-waving." As much a hocus pocus as it is a dismissive gesture, but "I hand-waved my way through x" has been said many times, and meant earnestly almost every time. The appeal to authority that is anonymous cliché cannot be understated.
All this is to say, I really liked this post of yours.
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