Poetry, Pt. 1: A Reduction Of Nantucket
Studies and practices in reductionist philosophy can bring a certain clarity and simplicity to an otherwise impenetrable cache of thought. Purely reducing names to semi-real/fake mathematical jargon can yield proper results. An instance: If a child, kid A (KA), had an affinity for activity one (A1), would he make a good way to ruin steak or a great 50-minute record? Only time could tell (Tct).
Let’s look at an example moderne. To preface it a bit for you folks who may not be as hip to limericks (hip-lims/ rick’s hips), this passage in an old favourite of my father. Not knowing all the words, I often heard the first line over and (you may have guessed) over. As I grew older, I researched this then unidentified poem of origin and character and gained some atypical insights.
There once was a man from Nantucket
Who kept all his cash in a bucket.
But his daughter, named Nan,
Ran away with a man
And as for the bucket, Nantucket.
Many people write characters into storylines eager to drive a plot. Far too often these attempts produce sequences that become cumbersome and unavoidably plural. Did you see ‘Primer?’ Don’t get me wrong, that was a really good movie… but still. These storylines (lots of shit) are better defined in the term Plots. Let us see if a more-streamlined fashion can be (i.e. cutting out middlemen)…
There once was a from Nantucket
Kept all cash in a bucket.
Ran away (with a)
And as for the bucket, Nantucket.
Getting there, right? Let us continue: dissolve locations and objects…
There once was
Kept all in a
This is now starting to take shape. Once there was something that hoarded and named. Eventually he/ she/ it ran away — prime(r, sorry) example of a singular Plot. Perhaps this is a love poem. Well, maybe not a love poem as much as the poem-penner penning the pining of the persistent burden of lost love or a poncey love ode; either way it works. Now that the reduced base is set, additive ideas are free to flow.
[Stay with me here.]
Everyone enjoys snow, but not everyone embraces the cold that habitually accompanies it. So we simply alter the setting of the piece to a mildly warm and snow-filled day. As you may have guessed, il y a un nouveau problème, bien sûr: what to wear. Women enjoy wearing shorts and embrace the summer sun with a vigor never seen from the opposite sex. Men should not wear shorts. Only daft pillocks expose their scrawny pronounced kneed-limbs in public. Just wear pants, it’s really not too much to ask. So, in re(knee)cap, women can wear shorts and revel in warm snow — that’s all and well. Men should remain panted and may also join in.
Where did this bastard child of nature occur? Let’s say your hometown (Th). Give the people some names and you’re done.
A | A | A
If you’ve been looking for a chance to say something then this very well could be it.
I wish to God I’d had a list like this when I was 23.
Answer phones better than anyone else has answered phones before. Relay messages so brilliant, they bring people to tears. Turn the coffee run into the choreography of Swan Lake. Become best friends with every intern and every underling and every taxi driver you encounter.
I remember taking the pen and notebook from that woman outside the courtroom, flipping to a clean page in the book, and writing, JESSICA IS SAD in big, bold, uncoordinated letters. “My sister is going to be a good writer someday! Look at how nice her lines are!”