Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Etymologies, Fascists, God, Goddess, Jim Earl, Mother Nature, Religion, Theater, Theatre, Theology, Theory
The following etymologies have been provided by www.etymonline.com, a map of the wheel-ruts of Modern English. (my bolds)
Dear Everybody (Anybody),
Why is it if you try to find out the etymological history of both theology and theory, you get different results? Isn’t theo “God”?
mid-14c., from O.Fr. theologie “philosophical treatment of Christian doctrine” (14c.), from L. theologia, from Gk. theologia “an account of the gods,” from theologos “one discoursing on the gods,” from theos “god” (see Thea) + -logos “treating of.”
So Theos is god, but I have to see Thea…ok. Is this the old M/F again?
fem. proper name, from Gk. thea “goddess,” fem. equivalent of theos “god,” from PIE base *dhes-, root of words applied to various religious concepts, e.g. L. feriae “holidays,” festus “festive,” fanum “temple.”
Yet Thea doesn’t end there if I continue to dig through to…
1590s, “conception, mental scheme,” from L.L. theoria (Jerome), from Gk. theoria “contemplation, speculation, a looking at, things looked
at,” from theorein “to consider, speculate, look at,” from theoros “spectator,” from thea “a view” + horan “to see.” Sense of “principles or methods of a science or art (rather than its practice)” is first recorded 1610s. That of “an explanation based on observation and reasoning” is from 1630s.
So theology (theo+logos) might be words about speculation about what we’re looking at. Fools assert that God sits in a room with a view; theory might suggest that god is that room, and that room is any view at all.
late 14c., “open air place in ancient times for viewing spectacles,” from O.Fr. theatre (12c.), from L. theatrum, from Gk. theatron “theater,” lit. “place for viewing,” from theasthai “to behold” (cf. thea “a view,” theates “spectator”) + -tron, suffix denoting place. Meaning “building where plays are shown” (1570s) was transferred to that of “plays, writing, production, the stage” (1660s). Spelling with -re prevailed in Britain after c.1700, but Amer.Eng. retained or revived the older spelling in -er. Generic sense of “place of action” is from 1580s; especially “region where war is being fought” (1914).
So the theatron that would be a place to worship the female goddess is instead a place for viewing, something beheld, beheld within, a field upon which action takes place.
But theology, that is an account of the gods. Not those who are beheld, but those who create what is beheld; not the place of action but those who act.
Yes and the theater of it all is the wars provoked by the simple misunderstanding by humans of the fact that what you look for you will find. The world is as much a product of our imagination as we are of its. In fact there is no way to distinguish where “we” end and the “world” begins. We are Earth’s attempt at awareness. We’re wrapped up on here, in this, like it or not.
If tragedy repeated is comedy, how many times does a comedy have to be repeated until it is no longer funny? In these days, I wonder how we will come to see that the theater of the conflict between theory and theology, with respect to their immutable equivalence, has gasped its last guffaw and Mother Nature (boss round these parts) will snuff out the tellers of bad jokes.
Wish we were there,
Filed under: Uncategorized
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Diary, Dreams, Driving, Instruments, Jim Earl, Monsters, Politics, Washington
..At some point i am driving the whole family, perhaps minus my dad and we pass a cop so I floor it. The cars in front move out of our way and by the time I hit the dip in the road I am thirty five over the limit but the cop didn’t come for us. We took the crest at top speed and had air for almost three seconds before slamming back down into the steeply angled roadway that quickly smooths out into the waking of day….
Thurs May 28, 2009 0929 Early to bed and two to the boards. Some synergistic atavism for which no was grateful except not to be dead…
June 4, 2009 1005 And god forgive him the terror he was to tend to. A dedicated and prodigious…
June 20, 2009 Again a dream in a house. No more in public as when… …is in the house I see through the garden window over the low hedge or wall. He is in a barn and seated at what should be a sawhorse with something wedged for working and instead sits at a big old clavicle-type thing with his fathers little keyboard sat on top. He is gone for a time and then…
June 21, 2009 1211 And a dream this time in my home. Someone had cleaned out my compost receptacle and left in place of discarded peels, skins, and ground, some candy colored niceties whose presence confounded me no end. Also I was for some reason storing a soft cheese in my front right hip pocket for entirely too long.
July 20, 2009 Another day in which madness could be said to have been pre-vialed as a peacock.
Only spurts were left after the great burn out. Juice and gun shots were going to be the kick in the balls that we always needed.
In the early morning, when disaster’d struck and I was otherwise occupied and the immediate realization of the irrelevance of all things clanged as the machine kicked into action, we all kissed our sweet asses goodbye.
The howl of an oil wind clamps down on the lips of the loose. Don’t talk, ever. Don’t give aid. Shoot the document &183;
How has the profession of trouble resulted in this battle of monsters? This caution amongst monsters of other monsters and their strange music. The tiger on the bike can surely play the edge, but can he play the role of the straight man?
It is in everyone’s interest that I be intoxicated. It is my duty to prescribe, with this in mind, when it’s time to get out of line.
“Hey yeah, I hunting, yeah I’m bob, bobbin, man, whatever you say…I never get out.”
What ‘s a better thing: a gun, a bike or a book?
Why would you have to choose?
Wrong, an instrument.
Friday July 24, 2009 1421 You take a dump everywhere you go. That’s how I feel. You take a dump. Everywhere. You. Go
July 25, 2009 2201: Immunity on the shredding, but the whistle was blown; a serious vapor made washington groan; how he did that, I’ll never know.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Dada, Indie, Jim, Jim Earl, London, Music, New York
Noms de plume and guerre
This is and will be suppleMental.
Casually clued in to casey’s delinquency the class was clutching to its cluster as though all the weight was there upon it. Waiting in the hallway the collaboration between clarity and timeliness was clinched. Calmly, clever Clayton made off.
Clubs could not encumber this cummerbund. He clip clopped along: a crumb in a cubist’s picnic basket. Careening and curious he was the cure for so many cumulus days curating dust neath the comforter. Comeuppance would come early this year. Curiosity claimed bigger game than cats just this week. Cowlick and all: curly-cued and covered in cognitive pageantry, and quite convinced the cue had come to carry-on.
Check out this video: Jim Earl live @ the Hit Factory: Which Prince (election song)
Filed under: Uncategorized
Hopping a plane in ten hours. Overnight to London. Waking up to the secret show. IF I can find my contacts and lose my baggage I’m playing a surprise with Melody Nelson and friends tomorrow at 55 Camden High St. @ Tommy Flynn’s. (Sun. @ 8). Shows are booked for 21 Aug and 3 Sept at the Lincoln. Heart is in perpetual monkey in the works wrench in the gear ship on the sea mode. Maybe a plane ride will offer perspective. Hopefully it will come without incident. See you soon,