Personification

 

Moth Mulleins

Viper's-Bugloss and Moth Mullein are two unappreciated Flowering plants. Moth Mullein is a biennial. Viper's-Bugloss is a chalk loving biennial. It's the charming bloom that needs to be seen close up that does it to the development of a postmodernist theorists. Its's the moment experience decides "F the Grand Theory this is where I want to be." Round here of course we do get the warm weather visit from the Summer Tanager, whose call, when he's unattached, is that of a pure post structuralist, clearly no fan of Immanuel Kant. But I'm still prepared to argue with some force that Blue Birds, having been sanctified and made to feel foolish by the ditsy Blue Bird Box, are much happier when they're playing chess with the Sparrows.

Vegaphobia.

 

Hay for Beef

Round here, late April to end of June is hay for the beef cows season, not Meadowlarks or lettuce.  In the essence/experience discussion fear of vegetarians, or Vegaphobia, as well as Carniphobia, an intense, irrational form of Meat Avoidance, conjoined with rurality sums it all up really 

Heidegger and Sartre on Essence

 

Moth Mullein

Essence, for Heidegger emerged from Experience. His deliberate way of putting it was thus : "The Essence of Dasein lies in its existence." So put that in your pipe. Heidegger's book Being and Time was read by Sartre when Sartre was in prison waiting for the authorities to decide whether he was going to be a danger to France's relationship with the Third Reich and if so should he be sent to a labor camp. Inevitably the idea of being thrown into the swamp where a being over time creates its own meaning was tempting.   

Run Rabbit

 

Wild Bunny

"The Role of Myth in Community Reinvention in a Post Industrial Age: An Essay in Postmodernist Interpretation." A simple enough title for Delyth Primrose's Doctoral Thesis, but as a title was it humble enough? The point being that back then when we were all so much younger it was the rage for the brighter sparks in the Western World to pontificate mightily on the end of the Industrial Age to no great effect and even fewer conclusions. The increasing powerlessness of the worker was a prime source of tremendous unhappiness, we were ripening for the fascists, and of course in the scrap for funding, society was increasingly becoming a problem of Business Management. As a result our world as an engine of productivity lost its dreams to another death spiral. Let's face it, as we stare back into the past, Miss Primrose's preoccupation with sadomasochism was probably more fruitful. Baxter certainly thinks so. Yet, like a cry into the dark, all of fifty years later, we still hear the lyrics of Chambawumba's song Tubthumping.