THE DUMBIFICATION OF MINDS

A Loitering Words Essay

There is rarely a meeting point between my Loitering Words persona and that of my ELT Vista self. The former writes with a chipped tooth, a leather vest, a jester motif, and a sly-eyed grin; the latter wears a blazer, or sometimes a black tie. Nonetheless, in this article— which may end up as a podcast, a rant, a performance, or a plea—I intend to bring both to the table, not to find a middle ground, but to come at you with both barrels blazing.

I write this post fully aware that slowly but surely, attempts will be made to shut me up. It is what always happens whenever someone challenges the gatekeepers’ favorite myth: that censorship is care and confiscation is a form of moral hygiene.

Today’s contention is the recent Australian ban on social media for children under sixteen—you know those post pubescent, randy teens, easy pickings and already labeled a “lost generation” by the vegemighty powers that be. The answer is always to take something away when you cannot control the message. No need for innovation, imagination, or investment. Just take. The political equivalent of grounding a teenager because you do not know what else to do. Take. Take. Take. Offer nothing in return … It’s the same old story.

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Truth from Fools: Polonius, Dada, and the Teacher’s Path to Authenticity

There’s a strange kind of wisdom that sometimes falls from the lips of fools. Polonius, that verbose courtier from Hamlet, is a prime example. For all his meddling and pomp, he delivers one of the most memorable lines in Shakespeare’s canon: “To thine own self be true.” The irony, of course, is that the man who says it is anything but. Yet the line endures. It endures because, like so much in life, truth is not always delivered by the most trustworthy messengers.

That’s not a bug in the system—it’s a feature. Truth, especially the kind that touches us, doesn’t depend on the purity of its source. In fact, one of the most useful critical thinking habits we can cultivate is separating message from messenger. The wisdom of Polonius isn’t invalidated by his hypocrisy. It’s sharpened by it.

This paradox is especially relevant for teachers—language teachers in particular—who often find themselves navigating between their ideals and the realities of institutional roles, global hierarchies, and personal insecurities. The classroom is part stage, part sanctuary, and the person standing at the front is never just a grammar technician. They are performer, guide, cultural ambassador, disciplinarian, nurturer, and occasionally, reluctant bureaucrat. However, how does one stay true to oneself amid all these shifting roles?

One answer lies in embracing the absurd. Enter the Dadaists.

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The Last Grasp for a Gasp

Dada Angstus by Jay Leonard Schwartz - @jschwartz63 - Collage Art

The Last Grasp for a Gasp

Deeply lost in the woods in the unsettling comfort of your grasp.
The misunderstood remain elusive, purposely so …
and, there but before ego, grace falls in serpentine gasps.

The window will turn seasons again in a few moments.
Stay tuned—the show is about to begin!
A cast of characters scatter the dreams, laid out like serpents.

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The Transmystic Blues Sniffers: Seeds and Stems

The Transmystic Blues Sniffers: Seeds and Stems
Seeds and Stems – The Transmystic Blues Sniffers

“I am Anarcho-Instamatic!
(Hail to the populist regime!)
I am your law and disorder.
Holy crypto-manic libertine!”

And with that absurd battle cry, my band, the Transmystic Blues Sniffers, released our long-awaited debut album, Seeds and Stems. The album is currently available digitally on music platforms like Spotify, YouTube Music, Bandcamp, Apple Music, and Amazon Music. See the links below to hear or purchase the album. Call your local radio station and demand the DJs to play it—yes, I said demand because civil disobedience demands nothing less!

Now, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone who knows me that when I’m not writing poetry, prose and novels, I’m writing songs. In fact, my writing exploits really began with my writing music and lyrics, which to be honest, I had hoped other bands might cover one day. Life, however, has taken me down some strange paths—including this one with my bandmates, which I am very happy to have been on as they are also my dear friends.

As far as the album goes, there’s much to be said about hit and run art. “Leave the beholders stunned and confused,” I say. By the time they figure out what the absurd lyrics “Long live the leftist Hitler Youth” and “DEFCON: Defecation!” really mean, I’ll be long gone. In truth, I wanted to produce this album two years ago, but (as it always happens) life gets in the way. Now that it has finally been released, I am leaving Greece, my home, for better or for worse, for the last twenty-five years. It’s a shame that due to the coronavirus we won’t be able to perform the album live, but as they say, “that’s showbiz, kids.” I hope the band survives my departure one way or another because we are all friends and play-well with each other. Also, we have a lot of good music we have yet to record officially. Nevertheless, greener experiential pastures, new creative collaborations, regeneration, and even love await.

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The Scream Of The Reader

Spine Tingle Dada - Jay Leonard Schwartz - @jschwartz63

The Scream Of The Reader

The demands of others are paramount …
Relentless, they are – in sickness and in health.
Unyielding in their vying for your attention.
Be warned …

Yes! Yes! A story!
A story of infinite glory!
Have you ever met a spineless wonder?
How about a spec of thunder?
“To each his own”, says the needy,
mainly to brave the trickling pity.
But wait for the punchline; it will come in time.
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For The Record And Pete’s Sake

For The Record And Pete’s Sake:

Age slips a purgative into our reality …
The mindset manifests in spasms of release …
But we are never really free …
until our existentialism is resolved …
and then we are still left forced to deal with one another.

My sister bought the first Monkees album.
We listened to it repeatedly.
We seemed to know all the songs,
cause we had heard them all on the radio and the TV,
our mainlines to all things Pop. Continue reading

My Modicum Of Free Sentiment

“My Modicum Of Free Sentiment”

Where is America, you white devil?
Down in old glory, in a helluva
blinding blitzkrieg of bling.
And you, my flaming sullen Greece,
not so far behind,
with nothing to the table
did you bring?
Ah yes, democracy,
in which all votes go to the usual swine,
and to their constituents
trickle down the usual piss, vinegar and aftershave-cum-wine.

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