Pop Star

 

Dear Pop Star,

Yes, the thing is the metaphor, but we don't always agree on what it is that is like the first thing.  It's more than a feeling, and the reason is, my Pop Star, Marianne is a metaphor for your manhood.  See: letting the days go by.  And how does all this loss feel?  See: pretty Pamela Brown.  

And you know, you know I love you, you men of the patriarchy, but it's just such scraps, all scraps that are left.  The thing is, and you know this too, if you have any power your responsibility is not to abuse it.

Gather Momentum

 

 

Dear Ticketed Passengers,

It takes a lot to laugh but it takes a train to gather momentum.  The glory of the metaphor of the train is the gathering of momentum, and I offer you some songs to illustrate my point.  Use them to pick up speed, or to gather your forces.

 Station to Station

Kundalini Express

Trans Europa Express

Peace Train

Mystery Train

With a train the sound is also of going, the decreasing, dopplered -ainnnn sound; the sound of being gone.  You can use it to let them know you have left.

Love in Vain

It Takes a Lot to Laugh, it Takes a Train to Cry

Another Bridge.

 

 

 

 

Dear Pensive,

Are you still considering what is the most meaningful aspect of the bridge as metaphor?  Even if you have moved on to pondering other ideas, like why the plural of spouse is not spice,  I hope you will take a few minutes to look at this beautiful bridge of grass:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Until we meet again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bridge Layer.

Dear Builders,

The bridge is certainly a useful metaphor:  You can use it to connect ideas and concepts of all sorts.  I was thinking of metaphors that were not so useful recently, because I heard rather a lulu on the radio.  It went like this:  "...like an eyelash on the edge of the sink."  You may wonder just what it was that was like an eyelash on the edge of the sink, but we may never know, because that part of the sentence was said before I tuned in.  It has me thinking, though, on metaphors that obfuscate further, versus opening up horizons and shedding light.  Like the way you approach the end of a tunnel, and you see the arch of light, which then becomes the wide vista of the road and land in front of you.

I guess I woke up on the picayune side of the bed this morning, because I believe this yellow leviathan ought to be more properly referred to as a "bridge layer."  I don't think this chicken can crow, if you know what I mean, because it demands that we separate the two components of a bridge:  The supports, stanchions or piers, and the road bed or surface of the bridge, the span, the deck.  What then, is the most vital part of the bridge metaphor?  The span, or what it spans over?  The connection or the bridge itself?  And do I mean a behemoth, a gargantua, or a humdinger instead of a leviathan?

It's like a single peanut in a blender, isn't it?  Enjoy this machine, and don't despair at the early wobblings of the camera; it settles down into something watchable pretty quickly.  Note how many people are needed to keep big bridge building Bertha operating.

 

 

Until our next metonymic meeting!  If you are impatient, you might pass the time here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Charting the Wings.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Birders and the Cartographically Inclined,

 

The map is such a beautiful metaphor for time and our journey through it, and it puts us in a position of viewing the larger picture- it pushes us back out, and lets us be but a small stitch in the enormous tapestry.  This, as you know, is why maps show up here regular-like, on the Dodo.  Please enjoy this animated map showing you where your birds have been and where they are going.

 

May the wind be at your back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Written down in a tear-stained letter.

Dear Recipient, or, To Whom it May Concern,

You know why I still write to you this way, don't you?  I send my love like this because I have lost your address, and I don't think you are driving past the billboard I wrote my message on; in large red spray painted letters, across the lugubrious grins of a pair of 10 foot high lawyers.

In any case, I send you all my love, mostly, and occasionally a few news items-  here is something that seems especially salient.  

The wonderfulness of this particular moment is that I received a message with this noteworthy item in it, and so I wanted to pass it on to you, but more than that, I am also reading a terrific novel about mail, and letters, and technology and pins, and pigeons and golems and well, you really should read it too- it's a delight:  Going Postal, by Terry Pratchett.

The letter un-received is a powerful metaphor and I must consider it carefully, and organize my thoughts by writing them down.  I hope you will get my letter, but if you do not, please know that I am thinking of you.

Until my next missive,
yours,
truly.






PS
A Tear Stained Letter.  And another.
- S. W. A. L. K.