H2Omeloncholy

 VOGUE copyright Conde Nast
© 2013 h2omeloncholy@blogspot.com
© 2013 KM Fikes
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from KM Fikes is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to KM Fikes & h2omeloncholy@blogspot.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.  No excerpt or link may be used for monetary compensation.

H2Omeloncholy™?
Firstly, thanks so for this visitation - even if you found this blog serendipitously.  You're reading the second sentence and that must say something.  What it says - in the least lil' bit - currently alludes one.  Nevatheless, shall we not pause for this virtual high-five, i.e., modern 'pound' or 'dap'... 

Secondly, I beseech your patience, any lil' spelling bees swarming about out there who just may be quick to note the 'o' in 'meloncholy' instead of the requisite 'a'.  All shall be revealed.  Or if not all?  Most. 

water = hydrogen + oxygen

Hey, sometimes, ya just gotta roll periodic - table, that is.  Since 'meloncholy' is intended to evoke an elusive art/quantum subscience conjuring up the quizzical, are we not aided by an irrefutable fact?  As compositions go?  H2O ain't Ellington nor Rachmaninoff.  'Water' is as innocuously basic as a bio equation gets.  Let it fraternize - and freely so - with a possibly contentious concept.  Result?  Objective and Subjective embark upon the same trip.  Arguably, neither really should travel anywhere without the other.

        workers SORTING square watermelons in Zentjusi, Japan                                                                © Associated Press

 

definition essential?
       Excerpt:                                                     Hamlet 
                                                                  [Act II, Scene 2]
                                                       May be the devil, and the devil hath power

                                                                        T'assume a pleasing shape.  Yea, and perhaps

                                                                        Out of my weakness and my melancholy,

                                                                        As he is very potent with such spirits,
     
                                                                        Abuses me to damn me.  I'll have grounds  
    
                                                                        More relative than this. The play’s the thing

                                                                        Wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the  king.             

definition explorative? 
       Excerpt:         A MOST HIGH COTTON EPIC POEM IN THREE GROOVEMENTS

                                                           OR OTHERWISE CALLED

         A MOST HIGH COTTON TRILOGY

                                                         (an Elizabonic™ Hypothesis):

                                                               THE PRE RAMBLE
                                                                    © 2002 KM Fikes

HAMHOCKUSE V       Harry’s main homez once Falstaff was kicked to the

                                                                    cobblestone curb. Haunted by Hamlet. As for hamhock?

                                                         Pork and a non-Muslim coloured populous? With respect

                                                         to th'increasing urban vegan, the name should be

                                                         unfairly self-explanatory. But back to Elsinør. From

                                                         scholarly dissertation to thespian soliloquy, was this cat

                                                         straight crazy or clinically depressed? E'en the

                                                         allowance for a difference betwixt the two suggestions,

                                                         belies an early political correctness long tardy for

                                                         mental illness. Howe'er, with respect and empathy for

                                                         such psychological considerations, High Cotton frames 

                                                         Hamlet's state o' mind as th'original literary existential 

                                                         angst. That be Hamlet tho'. Since the self-reflexive sweet   

                                                         spot one can actually quote from the play is the perennial

                                                         Shakespearean concession to “melancholy”, the angst o'

                                                         Hamhockuse takes his cue from an entire 'groovement' 

                                                         or mo'o'er genre – rhythm and 'blues'. And what originally

                                                         made the black body politic most blue? Inflammatory

                                                         imagery of red juice. Pre-Kool-Aid, but a fabricated fruit

                                                         punch, Nature hatched a nutrient dense melon. Whilst

                                                         ever wiser than nigh edible manufacturing, the water of 

                                                         that same melon dribbling down the cheek of a 

                                                         pickaninny was/is – symbolically - the least innocent 

                                                         juice but instead, derogatory poison.

WATERMELONCHOLY  
watermeloncholy (ˈwôtərˌmelən, kälē)

wa·ter·mel·on· chol·y   n.

                                                       Lest the phenomena be mistook for ennui – the luxury

                                                       amongst all angsts – and thereby, neva afforded to the

                                                       Elizabonic™ sector. Watermeloncholy – as experienced –

                                                       is but the indictment of the cracks in the glass ceiling atop

                                                       privilege. Call it the 'blues', accompanied by a rusted

                                                       harmonica, jumpin' a train track, long ere sampled in a

                                                       prefab hip hop studio. Call it Dubois “twoness” or

                                                       “double consciousness”, Ellison's “invisibility” or

                                                       Cornel West's tension with 'Progressivism' - pandering.

                                                       Wear it as a Coat, plural, as in Ta-Nehisi Coates.

                                                       Call it Marvin Gaye; call it Gaye's 1971, concept album,

                                                       What's Going On  – which is rumored to conjure Hamlet's

                                                      “To be or not” soliloquy whenst played backwards, under

                                                       a full moon. Call it Dave Chappelle's exit stage left. Call

                                                       it a rather surreptitious suspicion as to why one of the

                                                       most regarded music groups named itself for the

                                                       elements: “Earth, Wind, and Fire” - abandoning 'water'

                                                       in their title. Name it or not, sho' sooth, it doth remain -

                                                       if only to become the arc of how we roll. That cycle of

                                                       internal antagonism is a bizarre compliment to th'afflicted.

                                                       How so? Only thinkers of a dire depth – cutting edge in

                                                       their critique, standing most bravely at the apex(if not,

                                                       vortex)of an existence as coloured as cosmic – suffer, 

                                                       and chronically - from watermeloncholy.

                                                       Curiously, the fictional Prince of Denmark is

                                                       characterized most for makin' moody an art form.

                                                       According to current sociological polls on happiness,

                                                       modern Denmark, among 'documented' nations, rates as

                                                       one of the world's most acknowledged satisfied citizenry.

                                                       Socialist and atheist, more concerned with bike chains

                                                       than smog checks, and lured less by matrimonial

                                                       expectations or consumer gluttony, the average,

                                                       non-immigrant Dane apparently rates their own joy in

                                                       relative high cotton.  
 

                                                       A notion of 'internal antagonism' deserves further

                                                       exploration – off the map. Check the title of the 2005

                                                       documentary of blaxploitation pioneer, Melvin Van Peebles:

                                                       How to Eat Your Watermelon in Front of White People

                                                       (And Enjoy It). The parenthesis here are the crucible of

                                                       Elizabonic™ theory. How prophetic - if insipidly indeed,

                                                       'post-racial' America dawned that first, fateful week of

                                                       November, 2008. In an age that the dominant culture

                                                       insists is past or post race, moments where hyper

                                                       racialized dynamics electrify human interactions leave

                                                       'The Other' absent even the dignity of discourse to

                                                       articulate that very angst. This watermelon seed-spitting

                                                       anguish is caused less by the particulars of the conflict

                                                       than the parameters of it – no longer distinguishable yet

                                                       eerily visceral. The discomfort itself is more of a distress

                                                       than any alleged racialized offense. 'The Other' is left

                                                       floundering in a toxic goo of their own angst-riddled

                                                       societal advance. Intellectually, 'The Other' has

                                                      'overcome' – fulfilling Martin's mantra. Socio-anti-logically,  

                                                       watermeloncholia is a consequence of one too many 

                                                       compromises either upon and/or internalized by the

                                                       coloured Self. Pointedly, High Cotton attempts to render

                                                       Otherness null n' void. Such is no Herculean feat but

                                                       rather a hypochondriac's cough. T'ain't so; just can't, yo.

                                                       Conceivably, however, might Othaness no longer serve

                                                       as the primary prism or initial gaze? Elizabonics™ - if

                                                       only linguistically, and loosely at that - retrieves its power.

                                                       Characters - here - deal...whilst keepin' sum'in real. Thru

                                                       engaging themselves and their intimate relations, the

                                                       verse - at once - invents yet reclaims a/the substantive

                                                       tongue. Tension – and that tension trending melancholic -

                                                       lies in the futility of any separation of past from present in

                                                       sum'in as referentially volatile as the constant creation of

                                                       language. Regardless of th'inherent innovation of speech,

                                                       Otherness? Well, it is. Think ether – past molecules. It is

                                                       in the 'water' and 'diggin' the soil. Therefo', is not

                                                       watermeloncholy an environmental sentence as much as

                                                       hermetically hereditary? Ain't it lil' mo' than a diagnosis

                                                       of ancestral yearning fo' cultural validation - in da Void?

                                                       Prince Hamhockuse V well earns the legacy of 'seedy'

                                                       imagery – as descriptively loaded as digestibly bloated.
                End of excerpt


blog intent?

a clever as compassionate critique

on the implausibility of

POSTness 

Til our next 'post', feast upon produce in season...

© 2013 KM Fikes 
© 2013 h2omeloncholy@blogspot.com 
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from KM Fikes is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to KM Fikes & h2omeloncholy@blogspot.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.  No excerpt or link may be used for monetary compensation.