Saturday, February 20, 2010

Writing rights

Writing is such an interior act and behavior. We all do it. So inside that it’s strange for me, sometimes, to think of it as a right. But it can be broadly interpreted as a human right. It is what sets us apart from other creatures. Maybe not the octopus and any other animal that might leave ink writings. There’s bugs that work on tree limbs and leave hieroglyphics. There’s the path of the slugs on the flagstones. Birds are leaving tracks in the sand. It could all be writing and we think we’re special; when really, we just have a language that takes physical form just like the cat paws in the snow. When I think about it, everything a cat does is deliberate. They might be writing all the time and we just don’t know it. Well, they wouldn't be writing all the time given the union rules of soaking up as much sun as possible and their obsession with personal spit distribution.  But I would have sworn that my cat Stoner was leaving messages with her nose prints on my windows. I used to kid with her that it was a cry for help. Maybe it was. She's gone now. Could be her ship came in. 

Coda:  Everything that's interpreted is also everything that it is without the interpretation.

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