Canadian Trumpets

It will therefore only be in language that the limit can be drawn, and what lies on the other side of the limit will simply be nonsense. Wittgenstein, Tractatus, kindle location 9-17

Lena Canada's triumphant tale is dated, but nothing has changed in the United States since its conversion. I lasted five minutes with the film, and the once magnetic John Amos filling the time honored role as the minority domestic touched by God to tend the angelic birds with broken wings. Absolutely nothing has changed, but this was my life, and I was that girl and my idol was not Elvis Presley, but my plot points were exactly the same, just as they are for the disabled victims of rape whom are goaded into fighting back by Mariska Hargitay. Abuse victims crawl out of the woodwork to connect with this actress; never mind case management, cannibalizing celebrity empathy is more rewarding, orgasmic and aspirational for both sexes, but Hargitay has made the most of a casting limitation, and she projects living within Olivia Benson, making her fictional part more interesting than she is herself.

If you want a taste of my authentic self (and what is that?), I think both theism and atheism is a waste of time, but consider Kuhn a fortunate metaphysician, since he is in a select and dwindling minority of thinkers who worry about veracity and evidently makes a living doing it. I agree with him on one of his main contentions, which I will frame thus: If religious doctrine makes no sense, neither does the narrative language of theoretical physics. Quantum mechanics may have valid proofs, as does the big bang, and impaction which leads to the birth of new voids, but these are mathematical equations that have no end, and just move on to the next mechanism. Human mind is not capable of processing it.

If I can inhabit the space of logic, what is it then that makes me retract from radical progressive equality? The censorship of experience, primarily. Friendships with homosexuals, the kind of gay people who are only filmed for POV, has not been good for me, filled with dark back stabbings, equal to the macabre histrionics of John Webster. Even when it comes to my late editor Alexandra Grilikhes, and her etiology, the silence of willful blindness was a gulf upon which I could not presume a platonic attachment. The further the tent expands, the more bewildering it shall become. We are the only species with an argument, but a species nevertheless, one that should acknowledge its primate evolutionary triggers more often, even while acknowledging that the revolutionary act in Genesis, that of naming, is essentially what created humanity.