An English In Kentucky


















Sunday February 2nd 2014  Tim Candler


     I'll call it the 'hope syndrome.'  And I'll think of it as an unnatural optimism confronting reality, what others might prefer to think of as the subjective because the subject at least has an opposite, and I'll go on to describe the 'hope syndrome' as an utterance from the endocrine system.  Long before the Marsupial, back when we were a little smaller than a Field Mouse, our diet insect and the occasional fiddlehead  from Fern, which we'd gather in the dark of night otherwise a Dinosaur might step on us, the 'hope syndrome' first came to us as sound.  We could hear our daily meal, before ever we could see it.

      Ever since there has been a whispering in us mammals, and sadly for my own particular species that whispering has so dominated it became our language of choice.  All the pretty words, beautiful to contemplate, like the touch of a feather or a good mutton stew. There has been the odd attempt to presume harmony or logic in  words, especially those that are written, and I guess this passion still  haunts a few cathedrals of learning, but  how very much easier it all might have been had the Dinosaur never have come into existence and instead of mumbling around in the dark our ancestors could have developed their endocrine system in the full light of day, on top of a mountain perhaps. And I think my point is, to combat the 'hope syndrome'  a very good start,  would be to completely do away with punctuation.  Or at least recognize that much of each one of us is still listening for its food.


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