Assessing the Condition my condition is in

Assess Mentalism

“Almost by definition, a truly
historical development is one
that cannot be adequately ass-
essed by conventional wisdom
and intellectual pre-suppositions
whose historical relevance it is
bringing to an end.”

Which is to say: a beginning.

(Gil Bailie: Violence Unveiled:
Humanity at the Crossroads)

Consider Joe Fish:

Wet’s inconceivable to him—
let alone dry having no
comparison: which
means no contrast,
no contest, damnit:
immeasurable & not even
incommensurable either—non-
pareil for crying out loud.
.
And so what it would take for
Joe Fish to consider
WET?

No, I’m serious.
This is arm chair
experiential learning,
easier than riding the
front end of a light beam.
Needn’t go to the library,
nor Google it up or even
collar a Witherspoonian
Complex & take a field
trip to the pond.

Just Think.

If it’s ok to anthropo-morphize
& personify, too (always for the
sake of argument): how could
Joe Fish come to know he’s
ALL WET?

A fundamental sustainability
question: how anyone becomes
aware of one’s environmental
box? Alright: it’s merely a way
of posting the question. Positing,
posing, manifesting, & embodying
the question so as to put it in
play and the more ways the
better, yes? Maybe even
“the merrier.”

The story of Joe Fish is variation on: Assess Mentalism

“Almost by definition, a truly
historical development is one
that cannot be adequately
assessed by the conventional
wisdom and intellectual pre-
suppositions whose historical
relevance it is bringing to an
end.”

It’s not the environmental box
I can think outside of that’s
academically interesting here,
damnit: IT’s the one I don’t
even know I’m in until flip
flopping on the dock of the
bay and people are advising
me:

Breathe, Sam.
Just Breath.
For crying out loud!

A VIOLENCE against my
constituted & conventional
wisdom, some im-maculated
concept beyond my sealed-
in solipsistic swim suit

—news from outside my
solution, yonder in-formation
invading & re-configuring my
sopping soaking permeate
pervasive polysaturate dim
damp & dusky notion of my
environed mentality.

Or else: hooked & yanked into
some Old Town canoe on
Cream Hill Pond under
Gold Hill & Mohawk
Mountain: flip &
flop I was taking a bath
now gasping for water, gills
beating to the sound of a different
conundrummer.

Just breathe,
you might
whisper to me,
assessing the
situation: what
a set of lungs
you got!

Inconceivable.

xxxooo, Presbyter