How To Describe Spiderman

Wittgenstein's "The limits of my language mean the limits of my world"

Vorab: Wer hier Wittgenstein besprochen lesen möchte, liest lieber nicht weiter, wird enttäuscht sein. In dieser Kolumne breite ich nicht von dem aus, was es zu dieser Feststellung Wittgensteins Satz 5.6. auf Seite 118 seiner Logisch-philosophischen Abhandlung (tractatus logico-philosophicus) zu lesen, auszuführen gibt. Lediglich von dem, was mich an diesem Satz fasziniert, vielleicht, weil ich von meinem Schreiben darin wiederfinde, wiederzufinden meine.

Meine Sprache.
Grenzen meiner Sprache
Meine Welt.
Grenzen meiner Welt.

Die Grenzen meines Goldfischglases.

Meine Sprache, das ist nicht allein das Deutsche, ist nicht allein die deutsche. Meine Sprache ist mehr. Mehr als the English in it, the Dutch, Low German, Bavarian, the little French that Dagbani. With each line I crossed, the son of a farm equipment fitter you have many of them around and in front of him grew, my world, my language grew. With each new career grew my world, my language has grown, with each man, each new encounter. Yes, with each withdrawal grew my world, my language grew.

And yet - any language consists of sounds, characters that are found for word. To the word, because every word is a place at the same time. This poetic internal meaning is a special feature of my mother tongue German: word - that means space. There is only room where something to circumscribe exists and that which is bounded by word that space is ... Yes, what?
meaning? No. To prove this one does not need to try to Schulz von Thun. The significance lies not in the word. Does not the room. The space does what people put in, the potential not know what they are set into the situation but would be.

win over the people, the word, actually help construct and dimensionless, at least three-dimensional, bounded idea.

And the more those spaces to fit together and caused more long-range, complex worlds within which the thinking things can move freely: alone. Since language is something that one Up to a few pleasurable, or even tragic exceptions remains relatively long occur in the long run of a lifetime limited worlds.

"The limits of my language mean the limits of my world"

I this proposition may not only because it confirms to me within my imagination to be captured and communicate within the boundaries of my property myself to - I can him because he me showing how to open up about the language and worlds, worlds open up. Chance encounter. Their own language and that of another. For

- a smart young woman told me that words are signs, language is a system - do not show the words (signs), where the limits of our capacity on the one hand and the limits of our expression on the other side? The system language can not spread freely - in every one of us finds it borders.

Whether this is the native language, or whether it opens up to foreign languages \u200b\u200bto new worlds, even virtual as that of the Klingons, the Elvish Tolkien - "how far one" or whether it is simply shown, and talk but, see, think.

With every word that I draw, with each new meaning which I give a sign of the familiar in addition been able to grow my world from me to me (and others).

What is behind the word is not always unspeakably or even unknown. The word is a sign that the language system.

What is behind the word, behind the language - System Error, Windows shutting down - the system makes window shapes language, its own ...

a fish bowl in the other ...

The limits of my language mean the limits of my world - Good day, Savant, I can not get over it ... Will I ever go further?

Ludwig Janssen 03/02/2011

Sand On A Shuffle Board

sound word anvil

anvil

The word fits of tone and emphasis to her perfect tool that referred to the active-ties and their sensory perception:

I hear it sing "Am" metals, see dance iron on solid steel glow under the hammer, how's form takes on, read "boss" resistance, the force of the blows, see tense jaw muscles and searching look, smell carbon burned hear, "sss" and wish us back in your garage, Father.


Ludwig Janssen 12.12.2008 (dedicated to my father)

Blonde And Brown Hairstyles 2010 How To:

The Curious

the strange
I found in my pocket
sprinkled it into the wind in the storm


was ripe to harvest bird food
weighed

strange greenhouse



Ludwig Janssen © 02/21/2010

5 Dollar Craps Tables In Atlantic City New Jersey

The Sinnzoldat

mind for thought, bump - as so often. But this time's it any different. Just now I rubbed where my hair has thinned over the years, the small, raised area, I already felt the taut skin and dull pain instead of abating culminated in a slight tinge before it died away.

Again I reached for the spot - not a bump was felt more. Rather something stumped with a slight, but energetic kick around on my head and poked with something sharp to my fingers.

Besorgt lief ich vor den Badezimmerspiegel – da sah ich ihn. Ein grauer, nicht einmal daumengroßer Mann war gerade im Begriff, sich an einer Strähne von meiner Stirn abzuseilen. Schon rutschte er bäuchlings den Nasenrücken hinunter und sicherlich wäre er beim Sturz von der Nasenspitze zu Schaden gekommen, wäre nicht meine Hand gewesen, in der er mit leisem pluff! aufschlug. Auf dem Rücken gelandet, rappelte er sich hoch, strich seinen Rock glatt und salutierte. Ein Soldat!

„Joj,“ meinte er,
„bin ich gefallen von Kopf“ – sein Akzent ließ mich an eine Herkunft aus dem Osten denken,
„in Hand,“
Er nahm seinen Three-cornered hat from his head struck with a short tug on his knee the dust off the hat and put it on again.
"... in great hands! Gosh, so big hand! "

" Well, with whom I have the honor? "
He pushed the three-cornered hat on his head.
"honor? I'm just a simple Zoldat, sir ... "
He shrugged his shoulders, spread his arms and grinned
Plain Zoldat and do not know where, and ..." He scratched his chin.
"What's my name, well, I do not even know, my Lord, my great lord, sir, sir, you are ..." The gray man
setzte sich in die Beuge zwischen Daumen und Zeigefinger.
„… ein Riese?“

Ich schmunzelte.
„Eigentlich nicht, Zoldat, eigentlich nicht. Allerdings weiß man das nie so wirklich, ob man einer ist, weil Größe bekanntlich relativ ist. Und - Zoldat, eigenartige Betonung, Zoldat mit Zett wie Zar?“
Er winkte ab.
„Sie wissen also nicht, wer Sie sind?“, fragte ich nach und ergänzte: „Wissen außerdem nicht, wo sie her kamen und wie Sie auf meinen Kopf gelangten, stimmts?“

„Nun,“ der Zoldat streckte die Beine aus, „ich muss das nicht wissen, mein Herr, aber ich weiß, dass You ... "
accent. He cocks a leg, reached into his boot and pulled it off.
"... should know all this - after all, you have come up with me," he came from between his teeth as he reached for the other boot. To this end, he shook his toes.

"Me?"
"Yes, who else is part of the head, in which I ..." annoyed
"Me!"
"Well, then!"
"Ha?"
" you," he seemed a little " you have me thought , the product of your imagination am I, short gestation, small bump and -? oops "
Ah
" Yes, sir, and now ... "rose
He from his soft place, put his hands on the side and stretched as he was suffering from back pain,
" ... I'd be much obliged if you tell me again ... "
The arms are bent at the elbows, he showed me the inside surfaces of his gray hands and let the fingers play invitingly.
"You know, up, please!"

"How?"
"Well, you have come up with me, and as long as they do not know how to proceed with me, I would again an die Stätte meiner Geburt zurückkehren und auf Ihrem spärlich behaarten Hinterkopf abwarten, was das Leben für mich bereithält. Also, bitte!“
Wieder die provozierend lässige Geste mit den Händen.

„Wenns hilft …“
Ich hob meine Linke zum Haaransatz und spürte, wie der kleine Mann barfuß über meinen Zeigefinger balancierte und auf den Kopf sprang. Dort machte er es sich gemütlich, legte sich auf die Seite und schien ungestört sein zu wollen, denn anders war das Wedeln mit der Hand nicht zu deuten.

„Schleich dich!“
„Mich schleichen, mit dir auf dem Kopf?“
„Dann bleib zumindest Sitting quietly, that I can sleep, am tired. "

the small riser on the head, I went into the kitchen, I brewed some coffee and thought about my gray visitors. For its small size, it had been difficult to hold. Perhaps he was of metal, tin. I imagined tin soldiers, as I had cast as a boy for my little brothers and painted, and yes, he was a tin soldier. Tin soldiers actually do not slip from bumps, how to check out from a thought. Actually. Hm The egg was actually in the word suspect. An egg in a word that is sionally without egg and from which it is not clear what it slip would be bred out of it. Actually it was in my situation - man with a sprung that little man on the head - not a helpful word. No, he was no tin soldier, I commit. Above remained calm. I would not stand before the mirror, would deny the existence of the tiny score excellent and I could ...

I had put a chair in front of the big mirror in the hallway, sat on a coffee mug in hand, watching the scene before my head. The soldier, pardon, Zoldat had put on his boots again, taken from the back of the pack and pulled out some paints, brushes and a palette. He was busy sich anzumalen. Dunkelblaue Uniform, weiße Hose, krapprote Kragenaufschläge, den Dreispitz hatte er schwarz angemalt und mit einem weißen Rand versehen.

„Nun,“ blickte er auf und sah mich über den Spiegel an, „haben Sie sich also entschlossen, dass ich mich anmale? Nun gut, ein Anfang ists allemal.“
„Sie sind ein preußischer Soldat …“
„Zoldat, bitte, und Preußen, ach …“ Wieder die wegwerfende Geste mit der Hand.
„Warum nicht Soldat, sondern Zoldat?“
“Weil ich ein Sinnzoldat bin, mein Bester, das haben Sie sich so ausgedacht!“
„Ich?“
"Yes!"
"Why should I ...?"
White I mean? "
" I ... "I tapped me on the forehead, probably a little too violently, for the Sinnzoldat lost his balance and twisted a blue line of the uniform of his actually black and white calfskin satchel, which he wiped away quietly cursing.
"Hey!"
"Sorry, I do not know what I had in mind here, I'm sorry!"
"meaning"
"Yes, meaning"
"There Have we, meaning, did you think of meaning , reversed, precisely because you feel like it was, the sense ... n "he extended the term indefinitely," the two letters and now I'm here and a Sinnzoldat "
" What is the point that doing now? "
No answer.
"What can we with you now, what will become of you, Sinnzoldat?
" Suffice it to us, my Lord, that made me, me, represents precisely, and leave it at that. I like it here. "

My little guest stuffed a pipe, sat down on a piece of sugar that I had given her, praised the scent of coffee and asked for a light.
" Do I for any Make sense, huh? "
" On my head? "
" Hmnja, ever. "
" Hm "

The bell rang. Outside the door, the letter carrier was waiting with a package.
"An autograph please, here!"
you held out to her reader, tapped on the box and smiled at me. The Sinnzoldaten on my head, she noticed curiously.
the packet in hand, I went back to the mirror - the man was gone.
Whether it was me out there fall from the head, as I had bent over it for signature of the letter carrier? But outside there was nothing to see. When I was about to incurring the door, I saw him. He ran across the freshly mown lawn, under the privet hedge round to Weber Bachl down at a boy there paper boat was in the water and beckoned me with a cocked hat: "Goodbye," "Adieu"



"I think he knows as it is with me continues! "
" Bon chance, little man! "
He laughed. But the laugh was already the little boy who picked him up and him, rather than to sit him on the head or in your pocket, turned in one of the paper boats and fired into the unknown.

into the unknown?
Who knows ...

Ludwig Janssen 5/11/2010