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A Brief History of Writing, and: Gravity

A Brief History of Writing, and: Gravity K. Srilata A Brief History of Writing In this forgotten city park, a man inscribes his lover's name on the bark of a tree, heedless that in the twelfth century, two hundred and fifty calves lost their skins to the Winchester church bible, that it took thirty men sixteen years, back in the thirteenth century, to carve the Tripitaka Koreana into eighty-one thousand wooden printing blocks, that only seven centuries later, the Japanese imperialist army engraved its tongue on the living bodies of Korean independence activists. Writing has made its violent way into hide, skin, wood, and paper, squatting down in two-dimensionality, no longer kinetic, slicing through our minds with its alphabetic, linear whiteness. Because of the present, we have forgotten the gentle, dancing shapes of things. Gravity Our physics teacher, his hair trying hard to escape a ponytail, taught us that gravity was a wicked witch. Thanks to her, he said, we were likely to be stuck for good, the way he was, teaching badly behaved kids such as ourselves, from now unto eternity. As I grew older and old man Time had me by the elbow, I figured that gravity was not such a terrible thing http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Prairie Schooner University of Nebraska Press

A Brief History of Writing, and: Gravity

Prairie Schooner , Volume 87 (2) – Jul 21, 2013

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Publisher
University of Nebraska Press
Copyright
Copyright © 2008 the University of Nebraska Press.
ISSN
1542-426X
Publisher site
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Abstract

K. Srilata A Brief History of Writing In this forgotten city park, a man inscribes his lover's name on the bark of a tree, heedless that in the twelfth century, two hundred and fifty calves lost their skins to the Winchester church bible, that it took thirty men sixteen years, back in the thirteenth century, to carve the Tripitaka Koreana into eighty-one thousand wooden printing blocks, that only seven centuries later, the Japanese imperialist army engraved its tongue on the living bodies of Korean independence activists. Writing has made its violent way into hide, skin, wood, and paper, squatting down in two-dimensionality, no longer kinetic, slicing through our minds with its alphabetic, linear whiteness. Because of the present, we have forgotten the gentle, dancing shapes of things. Gravity Our physics teacher, his hair trying hard to escape a ponytail, taught us that gravity was a wicked witch. Thanks to her, he said, we were likely to be stuck for good, the way he was, teaching badly behaved kids such as ourselves, from now unto eternity. As I grew older and old man Time had me by the elbow, I figured that gravity was not such a terrible thing

Journal

Prairie SchoonerUniversity of Nebraska Press

Published: Jul 21, 2013

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