's Wordplay

I live in a fantasy realm, as do all of you; for the medium of communication does not exist except in our minds — without mind, there is no meaning to language. Hence each word we engrave or recite or thoughtfully deploy — that word is a fantastic creature, whose meaning arises only in imagination and the life of the neural net.

And so in my head, Raymond Chandler is a person whose name is associated with both wisdom and wickedness (Raymond = 'counsel-guardian', Chandler = 'candlemaker'). And also some of the most beautiful crime novels ever written in American.

When I see the name of Alistair Cooke, I think of letters from America, and also of intestinal fortitude (Alistair = 'defender of men', Cooke = well, 'cook').

And here I sit and look at the bookshelf in front of me, and I think of Jacob the deceiver (he who ensnares another's foot) and Robert Frost as a cold hard brilliant intensity (Robert = 'fame-bright', Frost = 'frozen-ness'). There is no end to it, nor do I desire such interminably. I am content. And so is my blog.