The Sentential Divide
Being of composition, the sentence is glue. Calm, composed, glued, we see words stick together in formation, forming information, in any form: malleable, steady, supple or stern—depending on the strength, the age, the aridity of that which binds them, the staple the glue. One forms a sentence, it is composed, and for that matter it is a product, more so than the objective, or subjective (subjectively objective, objectively subjective) symbols of definition that are words. We move, in analysis of the sentential, to the third stage of language constructs—the first being that of the relationship of sound to phoneme (letters); the second being that of relation of definition to logograph (word, symbol, or otherwise, which are the constructs of stage one: the formation of words, the connection of phonemes); the third being that of this, that of the relation of words amongst words, not in a group, but in an orderly string.
“String,” is probably not the best term to use in explaining a sentence, for a string is several fibers intertwined. Words intertwined does not suffice to explain sentential structure. A chain serves as the superior analogy, suggesting the words are not simply intertwined, but are also linked together in an order that allows for the possibility of stronger or weaker links (in this sense, words are perhaps the strings of literature, for no letter in a string of letters [a word] can be stronger than the others, unless in context of pronunciation and vocalization. This matter of spoken verses written words, letters, etc. must not be exempt from this work, and will be brought up again). Amidst the hierarchy of these sentential links (words) strain is raised, a struggling relationship between links becomes apparent.
Male-Female relationships are often confused, or left difficult to explain, potentially because of miscommunication between the sexes. This is perhaps unclear, as explanations of relationships often become. I suggest, for this matter, to bear in mind simple conflicts that arise in the meeting, or joining (con-flict), of male and female species. Such examples may be found in any histoire de la romance, for example, the kind Charles Bovary’s negligence to recognize the destructive behavior of his ever-discontent wife, Emma, despite years of obvious depression and warning signs. Such “failure to communicate,” or perhaps failure to inter-sexually relate desired ideas or feelings (or whatever else one might hope to do with language) adequately enough for personal preference, between the sexes, presents problematic aspects of inter-word, interlink, relationships. It is no secret that several languages emphasize and employ genders in their linguistics, and for that matter, instill a certain dichotomy into dialect. What we might call dichotolectics, manifest within the sentential chain, and tension is born. The links are separated into two groups, the male and female—difference leads to hierarchy, or at least, hierarchy does not exist without difference.
In the engendered chain, just as men and women marry despite hierarchy, the words work together, the links hold together. It is said, or should be now however, that a sentence is only as strong as its weakest word, that the battle of sexes might create what we call “meaning” of a sentence. We must, however, account for the hermaphroditic links, and the elements that are not subject to the engendered—sexless words. The intermediate. These are the preposition, the articles, the to, the from. These are less confused, and often less variable. They are the words, the links that have not strayed too far from their etymological roots. Combined with the struggling tension of the male and female arises another difference, another manifestation of dichotolectics.
Bearing in mind these sentential divides, it is important to consider the importance of each link, in that—be they strong or weak—the sentence (moreover, its meaning or implied idea, or the desired effect) is dependant upon the way they hold themselves together.
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens
-William Carlos Williams
In the absence of a link we might find so much upon a red wheelbarrow, an idea far from that which Williams desired to present (or at least from that which he did present). In this way, we see this verb, to depend as a weaker link, or perhaps one that is strained more so than others. Removed, the sentence (the composition, the meaning), falls apart. A stronger link, or one with less strain upon it, removed makes for less of an effect (remove so and get: Much depends upon…). So is so-so, not so important.
The idea of word-to word interdependency is not new, or groundbreaking—it is the foundation of grammar, grammatical rules. It does, however, serve as the groundwork for my argument. Grammar, for this matter should be considered as the rules of link-to-link interdependency (how each affects the next, how chains should be constructed to present desired ideas, etc.) and must be furthermore considered as a set of rules in both written and spoken sentences.
Thusly, we break the sentence itself into two overarching genres (writ, spoke) each with its own grammar—a grammar within grammas (grammaticism within grammatology). Grammatology, being the study of different writing systems and most importantly of the difference between the spoken and written word, presents yet another divide for sentential understanding. This, however, is not within the structure of the sentence, but rather the context in which we find it used.
So as not to depart into an analysis of contextual shifts, we must unpack, and zoom out again. We see, in the sentential, ambiguous dichotomy in grammar (between sexes, as between the engendered and the sexless), as there is dichotomy in grammas (contexts). So what does it mean that these sometimes-engendered words work together in accordance with grammar and are simultaneously subjected to the contextual pushes that are the focus of grammatology? Grammar is subject to gramma.
To suggest a gramma of language is to bring to light the difference of the written and spoken word. What characterizes each, and how does each sway meaning, affect grammar? The written word, one might suggest, is dead—not moving, sans énergie, captive and buried in the graveyard of a book, or paper, or in this epoch, a digital text file. On the contrary, the written word may be one of immortality, in that it last forever, and is only dependant upon the mortality of its format—the physical manner in which it is inscribed, the document). Immortal or dead, the written word lies in the extremities of life, either unending, or not existing.
The spoken word thusly becomes the living one, the word in motion, in active airborne transfer. It is the spoken word that lasts only so long as it lasts, resonates until it is heard and ceases to live any further. In contrast with the extremities we find in the realm of the written, we locate a certain sort of divide, but not like those found within grammar. The divide within grammas is not hierarchical, but rather complementary, in that the dead/immortal word acts more as a top and bottom to the living word—such that the spoken word is not opposite the written, but rather within it.
The sentence, the glue that forms information, the chain that holds ideas, meaning, is divided between the living and the dead, the mortal and the immortal. Yet, it is the fact that it can be living, or dead, that makes for its essential beauty. The word, the simple word, the link, is established as a variable in my previous works. Free of definite definition, the link is just a link, a link that can be used however one chooses. It is the sentence, however, the flawed, dichotomous chain, that approaches definition in what might be a more effective way. Beneath conflicts of gender, beneath hierarchy of its parts, beneath the issues of life and death, one thing is inevitably true of the sentence that is not true of the words that make it. The sentence is composed. The sentence is strategically formed to invoke a desired meaning. Words, O! Links! You are indefinite/undefined! But it is the sentence, the community of words, which forms something truly personal. There is no sentential dictionary, there cannot be, for the sentence is so impossible to define that such a book would be far less effective. But the sentence is birthed from man and woman alike, with a personal interest imbedded within it. It is the ultimate means for customization. A chain made up of indefinite, ever-changing links, but structured in a way that will apply and convey what the user desires. Surely, one can play with words, but one may play with sentences to such a greater extent. In fact, as each and every sentence (be it spoken or written) is created as a meaningful construction, a purposeful composition, to simply use is to play.
What strange phenomenon is this? How could it be so that a construct of unclear variables becomes clearer? It is surely evident, in this case, that the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. The ever-evasive and confusing building blocks (words) must hold some sort of magic to them, or perhaps this is indicative of the human condition (a magical enigma, no doubt). It is community, the cooperation of undefined elements that forms greater understanding—so perhaps the systems we use to exist as we are is demonstrative of the way humans are in essence—power in numbers. Power in numbers. Power in numbers. Perhaps size does not matter, but it is evident in the case of the sentential—quantity does.
