Skip to main content

T.S. Platypus: Strange Platypus(es)

Prufrock tells us that he has "measured out my life with coffee spoons."  I have measured out my life with blog posts.

With December coming on, we will soon witness seven years of "The Platypus of Truth."  Looking at the post history, it seems like 57 or so posts a year has been average.  2007 was a particularly bad year for posting.  2010 and 2011 have been better.  This seems to fit as in 2007 I was struck down with a particularly nasty medical problem that left me in constant and drastic pain.  In 2010, I moved to a much less stressful position in a more laid-back area of the country an experienced a corresponding relaxation of my symptoms.  Since 2006, posts have mostly been about whatever I was reading, playing, or watching at the time.  There have been a few forays into poetry and literature as well.  Readership has been modest with a few spikes where a post was fortuitously linked to by a popular site.

What does all this add up to?  Are these posts only coffee spoons counting out the meaningless hours of a pointless existence?  I don't think so.  Drinking coffee is fun, but it is merely an act of consumption.  Blog posts, even bad ones, are an act of creation.  Animals consume, but people create.  The posts of the last seven years have been, however mangled, an attempt at creation, an attempt at speaking the creative word into the inchoate silence.  In that sense, they are an imitation of the Trinity, or as Tolkien put it: "we make still by that law in which we're made."

Soli Deo Gloria   

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

SNES as Money Well Spent: Platypus Nostalgia

I got my Super Nintendo Entertainment System when I was eleven years old.  That's a couple years after it first came out.  The occasion was a little dramatic: to celebrate the end of a two-and-a-half year course of treatment for cancer.  I had no idea that it would be waiting for me at home after the final doctors visit.  It was a nice spring day, the trees were waving gently in the breeze outside the bay windows.  With a cup of tea resting on the coffee table, I set down to play.  What was that first game?  It was The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past .  Around twenty years later, my SNES still works as does that Zelda cartridge.  It's been a long way from boyhood in Southern Connecticut to manhood in North Houston, but I'm still playing. Why am I still playing?  There were stretches when I didn't.  Many times, I've just been too busy.  There were also seasons when it felt embarrassing to still be playing video games....

The Platypus Reads Part XXVII

Thoughts after reading the "Iliad" to prepare a Greece unit for my students: -Hector is a jerk until he's dead. He even advocates the exposure of Achaean corpses and then has the cheek to turn around and ask Achilles to spare his. He rudely ignores Polydamas' prophecies and fights outside the gate to save his pride knowing full well what it will cost his family and city. After he's dead, he becomes a martyr for the cause. -Agamemnon has several moments of true leadership to balance out his pettiness. In this way, he's a haunting foil to Achilles: the two men are more alike than they want to acknowledge. -We see that Achilles is the better man at the funeral games of Patroclos. His lordliness, tact, and generosity there give us a window into Achilles before his fight with Agamemnon and the death of Patroclos consumed him. -Nestor is a boring, rambling, old man who's better days are far behind him, and yet every Achaean treats him with the upmo...

Seeing Beowulf Through Tolkien: The Platypus Reads Part CXCIX

After spending a few weeks wrestling with Tolkien's interpretation of Beowulf , I found myself sitting down and reading Seamus Heaney's translation of the text during a spare moment.  I came to the place where Beowulf presents Hrothgar with the hilt of the ancient sword that slew Grendel's mother.  Hrothgar looks down at the hilt with its ancient runes and carvings depicting the war between the giants and God and meditates on the fortunes of men.  In a flash of insight, I thought: this is the whole poem! Let me explain.  Tolkien believed that the genuine contribution of the Northern peoples to European culture was the theory of courage.  The Northern heroes, at their best, were men who fought for order against chaos -a battle they knew they were doomed to lose.  If they were true heroes, their souls would join the gods and aid them in the final battle against darkness and its monsters and again go down fighting, spitting in the face of the meaninglessness...