Sunday, February 14, 2010

Quoting from a quote

Connie Jones, the New Orleans cornetist working with Jack Teagarden at the time of the trombonist's death, was a pallbearer for the wake, held at a funeral parlor on leafy St. Charles Avenue: 'I remember seeing him there in a coffin, a travelling coffin. They were going to fly him to Los Angeles for burial right after that. The coffin was open and I remember thinking 'Boy he really looks uncomfortable in there'. "'Not that he was that tall. Maybe five foot ten or so, at most. But he was kinda wide across the shoulders - and most of all he just gave you the impression he was a big man, in every way. In that coffin, - well, I can't really explain it, but he seemed to be scrunched up into a space that was too small to contain him'

This quote of Connie Jones, about Jack Teagarden's body, not fitting into a coffin, made me think of words, and how they--words--can become a coffin. Do, for most folks. Words are coffins is kind of the default settings for humanity. It is hard to find the default settings, and once you do, and adjust the settings to "original thought," (your only chance) the developers do a mass reversal, and you have to start all over, finding the settings.....

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