And if you ever wonder why you ride the carousel
You do it for the stories you can tell
Ah, the stories we could tell
And if it all blows up and goes to Hell
I wish that we could sit upon a bed in some motel
Just listen to the stories we could tell
Sunday, November 07, 2010
Stories
And if you ever wonder why you ride the carousel
You do it for the stories you can tell
Ah, the stories we could tell
And if it all blows up and goes to Hell
I wish that we could sit upon a bed in some motel
Just listen to the stories we could tell
9 comments:
A fine buffet of stories, it would be
I beg to leave, to hear your
wonderous stories.
Tillerwoman put the CD with this song into the music machine yesterday evening and that first line caught my ear. I may write a real post on it later this week. Do we do things (like sailing) for the "stories you can tell"? Especially if you are a blogger?
This is a question I think about often, in some form or another. Which part of the experience is the thing you feel and, well, experience, and how does the story you tell afterward (and it always is afterward), differ from the thing itself?
I think we do 'em for the experience, the actual, physical, sensational (meaning that word in it's literal sense) event that unfolds in time. However, I have enjoyed enough experiences and told enough stories about them, that I sometimes find myself recording the experience in my writer's mind as I'm close to it, but not near a pen, yet.
Dr. Heisenberg tells us we can't measure anything without somehow changing it.
I wonder if the same goes for blogging. Do we live to blog or blog to live or neither or both?
My wife asks me more lately, "You're not just doing this to have something to blog about, are you?"
Of course not, dear.
You must admit, however, when you look to upcoming events on your calendar, more often than not you look at it as a blogging opportunity. No?
Nice physics reference; If you can work Schrodinger's cat into this, O'D, I'll give you ten more points.
I never really understood the big fuss about Schroedinger's cat.
After a few days, only a physicist would need quantum mechanics to know that a box contains a dead cat.
Seeing Hitchcock's "Strangers on a Train" can put you off carousels for a long while. It really does blow up and go to hell. A story one would rather not have to remember and tell.
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