#archaic english can eff off

[passage-of-arms]

Crosses pt. 2

Renaud's boots fell heavy on the stone path leading to Anyx Trine, while the man navigated the ruined stonework strewn about. The Elezen had never been this deep into the Forelands, his duties as a knight rarely taking him past the gates of Tailfeather. His heart thudded heavily in his chest, every instinct screaming at him to turn back, his gaze darting about with same keen-eyed caution he'd learned all those years ago.

"This is a mistake." Came a hiss from the back of his mind. "They'll know. They'll kill us."

"Silence." He uttered back, pausing at the gargantuan gate that marked the entrance to the tower. He heard the telltale beats of Dravanian wings. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead as he swallowed thickly, tentatively making his way into the structure. It took every fiber of his being not to reach for his greatsword.

His footfalls echoed throughout the chamber as he entered, the Aetheryte casting a glow about the chamber. He was silently pleased that no dragons milled about the chamber. He ascended after a moment's pause at the crystal, eventually rounding into the second floor chamber. There was an eerie silence, broken only by the rumbling voice of a Dravanian hidden in Renaud's blindspot.

"Son of Man," Came the echoing timbre of it's voice. "For what reason hast thou come here?" Piercing amber eyes peered out at the Elezen.

Renaud visibly jumped, though he still fought his instinct to draw steel. He swallowed the knot forming in his throat, as he righted himself and spoke, staving off the tremor in his tone. "I... I come on pilgrimage. To atone for my sins."

The Dravanian's head canted, a rumbling hum echoing through the chamber. There was curiosity in the being’s tone, a certain glint in it’s eyes. “My question remains.”

The Elezen steadied a shake in his hand, a shaky breath making it's way free. "I am formerly of the Holy See. Many of you and yours fell to me, as did many of mine fall to yours. Full well do I wish to correct my past mistakes."

"I see." The words came simply as the dragon lumbered up onto trunk-like limbs. "Dost thou seek the forgiveness of myself? Of my kin? Full bright did our vengeance burn during the Dragonsong. We bear no ill-will, not anymore."

"I do." Renaud's tone started to steady, his posture righting. "To speak with those I called foe brings memories forth that I long wished to forget. But I cannot continue like this. To confront it may bring me some manner of peace."

"Son of Man." The dragon rumbled again. "Thou needest not prostrate to myself and my kin. Thou needest not beg our forgiveness. Thou hast seen what vengeance and hatred hath wrought. Thou hast felt it keenly as well, I feel."

The Elezen was quiet for a long moment. "...I have, yes."

"The past is past. Thou must keepeth thy gaze ever forward, and forgive thyself. Lest thou burn with the same rage that burned within us all. The war is ended, for us. Tis time that it end for thee, as well."

There was another pause, before the knight offered a brief bow of his head. "I... appreciate your words. I am Renaud, you have my thanks."

"I am Eehs Fhail. May thou find some manner of peace, son of Man."

Renaud stepped out from the tower with far less weight than before. His gaze turned up to the stars above, a sigh on his lips.

"My crosses to bear, my own forgiveness to seek." He murmured softly.

There was a long pause before the knight once more took to the path, his return to Tailfeather illuminated by the night sky.

[elleaveryblog]

***Lost That Lovin' Feelin' & And A Lil Somethin' About FUCK***

Whoa-oh-whoa-oahhh-whoa... You've lost that lovin' feeeeelin' whoa-oh that lovin' feeeelin'..you've lost that lovin' feelin'..now it's gone, gone, gone...whoa-oh-whoa- oahhh-whoa..buh-dum-buh-dum-buh-dummm...yada yada fuckin' yada!

I've been single long enough that this exerpted portion of a song, has become my theme song! It's pathetic and hilarious to me...but shameless none the less.. =P

I've chosen this because a month ago I was sad and going through the whole 'whoe is me' phase of being single, alone, yada yada.. ~After that was about a week of sexual hunger, fearing I'd never survive not being able to kiss, cuddle, and make love to another person...even just be close to someone...we've all been through it! Though it feels pretty lonely and as if 'everyone' else has someone, doesn't it?!?

Once I got past that..I felt stronger and more intune with myself...and no I don't mean I relished in masterbation! Hahaha! I mean, being alone, as in single...you are left to get to know yourself better...keep yourself company and expand your personality as it suits you...being there's not the other person to entertain you.. you are left to take over yourself and make life interesting! ..I've thrown myself into my creative hobbies and talents, obviously one being this online diary...which I love and I'm sooo grateful it's available to me, and free..as I'm broke! It can be a true trial of strength and especially during that vulnerable stage of sexual hunger, as I call it, old flames and the general hottie population become a part of your fantasies...I found myself considering what I'd never have thought a good idea in a more stable set of mind...I maintained, though I flirted wildly, my diginity...not that the guys and girls I had in mind were no good for me, just that I knew it'd be something I didn't really need to deal with at the time...yada yada yada...I need this time alone to sort my life out here...get everything settled and be stable in life again..

So, I've lost that lovin' feelin'...my mind is on accomplishments...not lusting after my next cuddle-buddy or erotic love-slave...hahaha.. There's always a loop hole for my much needed pleasure...this girl's got quite the hunger for the lovin' feelin'...

Speaking of fucking, here's a little grammar and history lesson on the word FUCK (looked up on www.dictionary.com)... enjoy the brain food and g’night.. 

FUCK

2 entries found for fuck. fuck ( P ) Pronunciation Key (fk) Vulgar Slang v. fucked, fuck·ing, fucks v. tr. To have sexual intercourse with. To take advantage of, betray, or cheat; victimize. Used in the imperative as a signal of angry dismissal.

v. intr. To engage in sexual intercourse. To act wastefully or foolishly. To interfere; meddle. Often used with 'with'.

n. An act of sexual intercourse. A partner in sexual intercourse. A despised person. Used as an intensive: What the fuck did you do that for?

interj. Used to express extreme displeasure.

Phrasal Verbs: fuck off Used in the imperative as a signal of angry dismissal. To spend time idly. To masturbate. fuck over To treat unfairly; take advantage of. fuck up To make a mistake; bungle something. To act carelessly, foolishly, or incorrectly. To cause to be intoxicated.

------------------------------------------------------------ -------------------- [Middle English, attested in pseudo-Latin fuccant, (they) fuck, deciphered from gxddbov.] Word History: The obscenity fuck is a very old word and has been considered shocking from the first, though it is seen in print much more often now than in the past. Its first known occurrence, in code because of its unacceptability, is in a poem composed in a mixture of Latin and English sometime before 1500. The poem, which satirizes the Carmelite friars of Cambridge, England, takes its title, “Flen flyys,” from the first words of its opening line, “Flen, flyys, and freris,” that is, “fleas, flies, and friars.” The line that contains fuck reads “Non sunt in coeli, quia gxddbov xxkxzt pg ifmk.” The Latin words “Non sunt in coeli, quia,” mean “they [the friars] are not in heaven, since.” The code “gxddbov xxkxzt pg ifmk” is easily broken by simply substituting the preceding letter in the alphabet, keeping in mind differences in the alphabet and in spelling between then and now: i was then used for both i and j; v was used for both u and v; and vv was used for w. This yields “fvccant [a fake Latin form] vvivys of heli.” The whole thus reads in translation: “They are not in heaven because they fuck wives of Ely [a town near Cambridge].”

Source: The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition Copyright © 2000 by Houghton Mifflin Company. Published by Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved. [Buy it]

fuck

n : slang terms for sexual intercourse [syn: fucking, screw, screwing, ass, piece of ass, roll in the hay, shag] v : have sexual intercourse with; "This student sleeps with everyone in her dorm"; "Adam knew Eve" (know is archaic); "Were you ever intimate with this man?" [syn: love, make out, make love, sleep with, get laid, have sex, know, do it, be intimate, have intercourse, have it away, have it off, screw, jazz, eff, hump, lie with, bed, have a go at it, bang, get it on, bonk]

Source: WordNet ® 1.6, © 1997 Princeton University

[makingscipub]

Science and poetry: Effing the ineffable

A couple of weeks ago, Phil Moriarty sent me a poem and a piece of music about (un)certainty ahead of an afternoon of science and poetry on 29 April here at the University of Nottingham.

Travelling through cultures

This made me think about science and literature, a topic of endless fascination about which countless people have written, not least the British novelist and scientist C. P. Snow, who claimed in 1959 that the humanities and the sciences were “two cultures”. This started ongoing discussions about the institutional divisions between the arts and the sciences and, also, efforts to overcome them.

Snow first wrote about ‘the two cultures’ in 1956, in an article for the New Statesman. This means that I have lived with that division all my life. For half of my life I have also been trundling forwards and backwards between two (overlapping) cultures, the British and the German one. For half of my life I have been speaking German and for the other half English. And finally, for about twenty years I have been a humanities person and for the last two decades I have become enchanted by science.

I have now got a thoroughly mingled linguistic and cultural identity, especially delighting in the work of people past and present who bring the sciences and the arts together.

Effing the ineffable

So, sitting, yet again, on a plane to Germany I thought: What do science and poetry do that make them both so exceptional that people not only think about these activities separately but also feel propelled to combine and compare them? I came to the conclusion that things are actually quite simple (they probably are not): science and poetry try to and sometimes manage to ‘eff’ the ‘ineffable’; that’s all. They make the ineffable effable.

The word ‘ineffable’ refers to something that cannot be expressed or described in language, is too great for words, transcends expression, is unspeakable, unutterable, inexpressible (see Oxford English Dictionary). While looking up ‘ineffable’, I found to my surprise that the word ‘effable’, now archaic, was used in 1668 by John Wilkins, one of the founders of the Royal Society, in his Essay towards a Real Character and a Philosophical Language. So I am in good company.

But how do scientists and artists make things ‘effable’? They do that in quite similar ways (whatever similar means here), namely by observing, thinking (which can entail hypothesising) and experimenting. Of course, experimenting might mean something quite different in science and in poetry and in various sciences and through the ages, but it’s just trying things out and seeing what works (and comparing results with existing work, genres, theories etc.). In science this process has been systematised in parts (what some call the ‘scientific method’, about which quite a few poems and even songs have been written).

Imagination and Bildung

Both in science and art, ‘effing’ relies on our imagination (Einbildungskraft), passion and enthusiasm. Imagination, not just ‘cool reason‘, makes science and art happen, in whatever shape and form, and with it culture and with that what I call Bildung, a word that resonates, at least in the German culture, with imagination (image = Bild). Both art and science ‘imagine the world’, as the title of this year’s Hay Festival proclaims.

In modern culture a huge danger looms and that is the steady erosion of the imagination and of Bildung (or, as Athene Donald wrote ‘a rounded education) in favour of a utilitarian approach to the appliance of science and and the arts for mainly monetary ends. This contradicts the ideal of Bildung favoured by Wilhelm von Humbold, one of my favourite philosophers, linguists and education experts.

Humboldt favoured an approach to education (and, one could say, public engagement with science and the arts), based on the ideal of Bildung. For him, Bildung can only flourish under conditions that allow citizens to immerse themselves in “a manifold of situations” (eine Mannigfaltigkeit der Situationen)”. This enables them “to enter freely into relationships of association and cooperation with one another, because, Humboldt argued, humans can realize their potential as individuals only in society.” Focusing on impact or, worse still, closing down humanities and social science departments threatens such flourishing, as much as it endangers science and society.

Science Rhymes

So it’s a relief to find that this week here at the University of Nottingham, citizens, be they scientists, artists or whatever could come together to explore science and poetry on the occasion of Science Rhymes. This event was organised by Gerardo Adesso who is Professor of Mathematical Physics and writes poems for the leading physics journal Physical Review Letters (see here). It was part of the Nottingham Poetry Festival. Here is some more background about how the event came about. Here are some of the acts.

There were poems on the complexity of the human body by a computational biologist, on the brain by a computational neuroscientist, a poem using AI and read by a machine (which was very weird), a poem on the Fibonacci sequence (entitled ‘Fib Fib’) and on interdisciplinarity, on supercold atoms, on quantum thermodynamics, a poem celebrating the invention and inventor of Ibuprofen. Some poems rhymed, some didn’t, some experimented with words and letters in ways that reminded me of Dadaism. The introduction and transitions between the performances were poetically delivered by Gerardo who was a lively  and enthusiastic host.

Knowledge and metaphors

This all made me think about metaphors. What struck me was that science poems are like metaphors. You can only understand them if you know stuff about or have experience of the source domain. Metaphors map ‘knowledge’ from a source domain (say, war) onto a target domain (say, illness), a process that then produces utterances like “I am still fighting off the flu”. Normally, our everyday knowledge of the world allows us to understand such metaphors. There are limits to understanding, however, which are set by knowledge shared or not between the speaker and the hearer (this becomes more extreme when one of the interlocutors knows more about something or has detailed knowledge of very different things).

I once used the following metaphor in talk I gave in Germany: “This is pop tart philosophy”. My muesli-eating audience did not ‘get’ it. They had never eaten a ‘pop tart’ (not something that I would recommend). Some told me afterwards that I should not have used the word ‘tart’….

I felt a bit like the non-pop-tart eaters when listening to some of the science poems. I got the rhymes and the rhythms, the world play and the puns, but I sometimes didn’t quite understand the whole, as I lacked detailed knowledge of, say, the Fibonacci sequence. However, poems dealing with human experience of science were more easy to decode, such as this one by Gerardo Adesso:

“Trabalho e Calor (Work & Heat): Quantum Thermodynamics is the science Of work, heat, and energy exchange At very small scales Where the laws of classical physics break down Like social inhibitions In a group of scientists with free-flowing beer […]”

This does not mean that metaphors and poems are not important. The absolutely are – and the audience with their expert knowledge enjoyed them all.

I’ll end with a quote from a great article on science and poetry by Ruth Padel, which makes one of the most important points about science and poetry: “poetry and science have more in common than revealing secrets. Both depend on metaphor, which is as crucial to scientific discovery as it is to lyric. A new metaphor is a new mapping of the world. Even maths uses metaphor; and this is where more condensed forms of poetry join in.”

Science and poetry imagine and map our worlds. They make worlds; they make us; and we make them. Poems also bring people together across the world, as expressed in this quantum love song by Phil Moriarty.

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