I wrote a great post the other night, filled with insightful linguistic philosophy; all about the difference between symbolic meaning in words themselves, and the cultural meaning, the psychological meaning; the way words carry not just inherent sets of meanings that are closely defined, but also a reciprocal meaning, a meaning the hearer or reader […]
I wrote a great post the other night, filled with insightful linguistic philosophy; all about the difference between symbolic meaning in words themselves, and the cultural meaning, the psychological meaning; the way words carry not just inherent sets of meanings that are closely defined, but also a reciprocal meaning, a meaning the hearer or reader adds in for him or herself, and how this complicates communication.
It was beautiful; it flowed with an effortless elegance from thought to virtual paper, expressing something I’ve been striving to say for a long time.
Only, I was full of darvocet at the time.
Yesterday I tried to edit it and it was unclear which language I’d been typing in; or to be more accurate, the words were generally english but in syntax, I was dealing with a language more akin to orc.
So I’m left wondering, what the hell was I saying? The only thing worse than a fickle muse is one who’s hopped up on goofballs.