Me moir my yore

Posted on July 31, 2009

7



The quick, brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.
Wikipedia

I am among the many most definitely and most certainly: me. Definite: because I know where I begin though not where I will end. Certain: because of the many that many have told me that I am, some more some less kindly.

In these two attributes, I am not complete. as Cicero says, a group of three beats a group of two when aired aloud. The romans moved on from threes to legions. Hence it may happen that you begin with three attributes yourself – say, “cute, adorable, likeable”, or “hairy, large, rosy”, or “difficult, rambunctious, ferruginous” – and these three attributes become the cell of a legion of things others say about you or you say about yourself. It may then be hard to get away from your initial set of attributes.

Note on grammar: the adjective is a legionnaire with a tactical syntactic role – to modify a noun or pronoun and to gather and pass on information about the noun or the pronoun’s referent like an agile undercover agent. It is a spy from an un-noun land with a bagpack full of explosives, a chinese fireworker with wings to beware of lest you forget to ignite your innuendo.

I liked my first two adjectives, definite, certain, but I insisted on the third attribute, me, as not being an adjective but a personal pronoun. Other personal belonging people, personalities, human reference points,  who stood by, pars pro toto, when I appeared on the scene, were (not necessarily in this order):

… My mother who carried my me and made me definite, who taught me the letters and how to tie my shoelaces (this being the first and not last of a long line of eagerly anticipated ambitions).

… My father who struck his spark and made me certain, who had a belly of sardonic laughter and a bag full of stories from his travels to the moon where i was permitted to follow him provided I took my vitamins.

… My sister who was not me but near me and most definite and certain, too, older but smaller in size, a mistress of many tongues and with the will of a platoon of soldiers buried in the jolly jungles.

… A beenie family of ancestral persons who planted themselves around the land as only families do, dotted across the alluvion, and in my case most definitely and certainly attached to the big cities where they dwelled in not uncertain contempt for anything countrylike that smelled of manure and a manifold of uncontrollable animals and their indefinite habits: rabbits, sheep, pigs (assumed to have wisdom beyond their bacon), dogs (dirty, doggedly so) – and only cats (via my father’s inclination towards their fierce independence) and horses (via my mother’s affection for the creatures’ affable grace) were somewhat exempted from the righteous credo of the urbanites: people who found beauty in the roof lines of skyscraping buildings and who thought chimneys a clear sign of composure, civilisation and culture.

Later I acquired an ickle cluster of frynds tarted up as if for a Venetian fancy-ball with the masks of: the assassin, the lion, the duchess.

There was a red-headed courtesan who followed me around visiting my fantasy life leaving her dirty droppings as clues, a sex goddess whom I never touched but always imagined, robed as a brigand’s daughter, with a flirty feather in her tricorny hair.

I had a wife to call mine when i feared to lose my fire in the stormiest storm and who soothsayed my successes from laverbread. We had a child, too, who was her own from her first moment flopping like a fish on a table top, a girl of orange pekoe temper with thistle green eyes.

This is how any account of anybody’s dingy beginnings should enter employment: by listing the invididual’s attributes and those whose affections attended his entry into this whole world of wonders.

© 2009 finnegan flawnt obsessed by me moir and a sense of yore

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