dialog, dialogue
Tuesday September 17th 2013, 10:18 pm
Filed under: change,something new Tags:

A man, his sister, his daughter, and his dog walk into a bar. No, wait, that’s Eric Gill. Not that at all. A man walks down the street, heading to a bar to get some reading in before meeting his wife after she’s done volunteering. A voice says “I recognize that book.” “No you don’t,” I replied, secure in my pretentious knowledge that the bizarre, recently translated from the Hungarian novel of great pretentiousness couldn’t possibly be recognizable in the dark from a distance without a dust jacket (I’d been too cheap to buy it and checked it out from the library, a rare decision). “No, really. Isn’t it where the devil goes to a small Hungarian village,” the voice started, continuing to correctly summarize the book a bit, before ending, “persimmon?”

Such is the oddness of intersections, of dialogue in unexpected locations. An 8 week class, taught as a neighborhood phenomenon, on dialogue. Mystic, romantic, philosophic, literary, poetic, silent. Seminal seminar, pot latch and picture frame. A brazilian, a lawyer, an animator, a teacher, an artist, a framer, a poet, and me. (Not quite rainbow connection, but I feel like warbling, nonetheless). Claiming a place and a space as _ours_ in which to discuss meaning. Neighborhood, community, collectivity. Not usually my strong suit. I find myself surprisingly moved as it comes to an end, dissolves, with two away to northern cal, and others likely to blend back into the landscape. But an interesting lesson, as well, in challenging myself to be better, bigger, more generous of spirit and thought. Not as with so many of my pursuits (most lately the piano), but with others. Who knew?

Cheers, all. The dialogue will continue, capitalized, perhaps, across rooms and objects and I-it and I-you, across tiger lilies and Gricean maxims, across Deleuze and Bakhtin and Barthes and Irigaray and Rich and Glenn and Sachs and Ong and all the rest. Thank you.