The World always changes, doesn't it?
The world of Nelson Algren's book called "City On the Make," which book I admire just sitting on the shelf, because I have not done a close reading, is one. It is the world of Chicago in the late fifties. The world of three or four hundred years ago is/was another and for that matter what I saw just yesterday is another. That is the world of the area around Damen and North. That is an area of Chicago, which is an ultra-hip, super-cool type area. All these world are so different, noted I. But we all have the same bodies, so if a primitive man of 50,000 years back took his leaves off he would see basically the same difference-sameness that I see when I look at my nakedness.
Rene Dubos' book -- I wrote about it already -- see below -- makes a point. Our journey as a common, "human" one is a journey wherein we are the species where, unlike other animals, one is not confined to one spot. "Homos" can change their home zones, can go all over, not be associated with any one "homeland," which is a word that originates with the brilliant George W. Bush of Connecticut, and Texas. So everything always changes. Or else it always stays the same. OK I know I said upon opening this flytrap that it always changes.
But maybe we should change that, too, as it also always stays the same. Like the body of that man of 50,000 years back. Of course we are going to be "down" (trendy) with the latest news (styles) from our changing species and yet, this does not change the fact that the matter of same and different always has the two sides of, Well --- same and different (only one of which is particularly trendy).
There isn't really anything new under the sun.You have the same basic equipment physically that your ancestors did, 40,000 years ago, and hardly much different from say, Australopithecus 1 million years ago. Yet, the World always changes, don't it?
(bibliographic): http://jacksgreatblog.blogspot.com/2012/06/book-review-dubos.html
updated July 25th
http://www.bartleby.com/165/139.html
ReplyDeleteTHERE are no handles upon a language
Whereby men take hold of it
And mark it with signs for its remembrance.
It is a river, this language,
Once in a thousand years 5
Breaking a new course
Changing its way to the ocean.
It is mountain effluvia
Moving to valleys
And from nation to nation 10
Crossing borders and mixing.
Languages die like rivers.
Words wrapped round your tongue today
And broken to shape of thought
Between your teeth and lips speaking 15
Now and today
Shall be faded hieroglyphics
Ten thousand years from now.
Sing—and singing—remember
Your song dies and changes 20
And is not here to-morrow
Any more than the wind
Blowing ten thousand years ago.