I write because I believe language is holy, and I think fiction and poetry are the most divine of the sacraments. This is because all language is fictive, no matter how explicit: the word can never be the thing. An apple cannot be an apple except in comparison to everything that’s not an apple. The word G*d cannot possibly define the entirety of G*d. That, I believe, is the reasoning behind not saying the name in vain: because the name is always in vain.
In that light, even rhetoric, journalism, and academic writing are fictions,framed by intent and word-choice. Fiction is inherent in the slightest attempt at phrasing, in trying to make it sound good or right or true or objective. Poems and novels have this selfawareness, which sets them apart. Wallace Stevens wrote that poetry is the supreme fiction, and I think this is part of what he meant, regardless of whether it’s in verse or prose. Form is the tension between variation and repetition, which ultimately creates rhythm, rhythm, which is essentially a measurement of time.
Ultimately, language is the essential human medium for giving form to what we experience. Without it, there is no memory of the past, no anticipation of the future. All other instincts reside in the present. And it’s not only time: science and mathematics also exist within and are defined by language, religion also. It is a constant reminder that nothing is real. Nothing except meaning, that is. To me, that means there’s enormous power there, so that I am in such awe of its blessing that it at times feels profane.
Or, long story short, I like to fuck around with words and what else are you going to do with a liberal arts degree?
Questions?