On a shelf in the upstairs bathroom at work (where no baths are ever taken), two cans of so-called air freshener stood: a Lysol product that promises "to neutralize" odors and a Febreze product sporting a "Limited Edition" label. For the record, I rarely, if ever, use these products because (a) they emit offensive odors of their own, (b) they are examples of conspicuous capitalist waste fostered by marketing brainwashing, and (c) I mean, really, it's just natural life, and (d) I simply open the freakin' window if my emissions are apt to evoke adverse olfactory impacts in my co-workers. (To be honest, I have never even deigned to try the elegantly and oh-so-cleverly-named-but often-misspelled Febreze spray thingy.) Limited Edition. It got me wondering. How limited? Would it be infinite if it were not a limited edition? Limited in its success rate? Limited in the number of editions such that the one I stared at is the only one anywhere, therefore worth gazillions of dollars? And is there any product that is not a limited edition? I'm one. I'm a limited edition. (But not a product in the aforementioned sense above.) I am limited by time and space; by my capacities, hopes, failures, dreams, aspirations, strengths, weaknesses, et cetera. Ad infinitum (now that's a phrase denoting unlimited!). Limited by my strengths? My assets? Yes, they may be my greatest limitation of all,
prodding me to hold on to the illusion of control, tricking me to hold on to what I have not got, nudging me toward willfulness when I should be surrendering or simply waiting. Edition? I am always either editing myself or allowing redaction upon myself. I'm often surprised by the latest edition of myself that hits the existential newsstands, sometimes pleasantly, sometimes not. Limited Edition. What a paradoxical phrase. It conveys limits, borders, definition, urgency. The very agency of restriction and limitation increases the perception of value. This blog is a limited edition (it is ephemera, as I blogged back in September), read by rare and priceless limited edition readers, such as you,
and you
and you
and you, too (sweetly and forever precious as your birthday approaches, six time zones east of where I sit).
(I am a semicolon; or maybe an ellipsis {perhaps parentheses}, but certainly not a period or full stop; not yet . . .)
7 comments:
Well put, Pekoe. As difficult a realization it is, you are even limited in your ingenious use of the English language. But only limited in the eternal sense of it all!
As a side note, I've always appreciated the paradox of "New and Improved." It makes me want to "Act Now!"
Here's to the semicolon of our lives; may it vamp for us just a bit longer...
Let me "limit" my comments to this:
Geeze you think a lot in that upstairs bathroom, huh? ;-)
Peace
but but but
laughing at your posts ARE limitless....smile
The implicit theme of your post, ala Aristotle, is that A is A, or to make it sound less Randian, we all have our limits. It is good to be reminded of this from time to time.
In the words of Richard Bach, "Learning is finding out what you already know."
In the words of Buzz Lightyear, "To infinity and beyond."
In the words of a coupon, "Limit two per customer."
I am so limited there's no edition.
Or erudition.
Puss
Nicely done. And now I am off to get the McDonald's special that tis for a limited time only. Cheers!!
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