Slouching Towards Extimacy

Again, in full on thesis format mode, I have nothing to say, so I will quote people who are more clever than I. This is what fambrena would submit for her thesis abstract if only . . . ? ]:

Gewritu secgað: “the sensible inscription” in Old English Riddle poetry

ABSTRACT:
–Here in this essay came the Riddles into the land of Litheory, and were welcomed in friendship.
–Here then in this essay came Derrida into the land of Litheory, and he seized the burg of Logos from the heathen army, and worked there great ruin. And speechloving Plato’s son forthfared into death, and the inkstained ecriture, Derrida’s son, came to power.
–Here then in this essay came the Riddles into the burneddown burg of Logos, and denounced speechloving Plato’s son, and inkstained ecriture welcomed them in friendship. And together they drank of textjoys, sharing cups of confusingashell theory.

LISTEN THE HELL UP!

We have yawned at yarns of yellowpaged manuscripts,
Exegeses of Exeter transcribed in the tenth century
By loving Leofric, lending light to literacy. Long
Read rudely, unrightly marginalized as matterless,
The rollicking raunchy riddles truly speak sense.
Speak more than sense, breathe bold theory,
Call shots as sound as Saussure’s, signify signs,
Prove that preConquest primates, sans Frenchies,
Could croak confusing criticism also; though they,
History hastens, were simple simians in silly hats.
Liar history! The tumultuous tenth century,
Ages before Harold bought it by an arrow,
Had just learnt literacy from Latin, also those crazy Christians,
And scrapped scrawled runerocks for comfy cowskins.
Anachronisticallysexy Alfred burnt his hot cross buns,
Swore off baking Danishes and bent to binding books.
Enlightened literacy lapped the brows of learned men,
And slowly the singing scop watched his words whiddling,
Wasting wordbound into writing. Tongue turned to pen,
And some clever curdleminded monk, Mel Gibson of 1000 AD,
Beat blood, battle, boasting, bribery and bravery into Beowulf, and
Beowulf he cleft in calf, cuddled and kissassed for ten centuries
By frumpy sexuallyfrustrated freshmen. So says one camp.
Artfully Orchard, O’Keeffe and others oppose: oral
Composition continued for centuries, contend contentiouscritics,
For formulas found, recurring repeated,
Spoken signposts for lazy scops. So hwaet the hell
Has deconstructing disseminating Derrida, lord of Logoskill,
In the alliterative alien kingdom of Anglo-Saxon studies
Have here to analyze? I redundantly recombine P,
H and lucky N, lying cleavaged in two O’s,
C, E, N, T, not fiddy,
With the whiteseeded SouthAsian staple sans E,
Our undergradoverused twoletter copulative, and M.
But do not forget, Derrida defies simplicity,
Denies sense: whatever word you wrought,
Solution sought, is always already wrong.