Tip of the tongue

It does not have to be this way, but language in many cases emerges as a back-up for instincts that have corrupted. The sure sign of corrupted instincts is that one does not trustfully believe in these instincts anymore. Believing is no mean task; we are all bad believers insofar as we cannot tiptoe on a tightrope without being sucked in by the vertigo of the abysses. To save oneself from the fear of perishing one seeks a cushion, a back-up. Language then emerges as this emergency solution. It acts as the depository reserve, the "savings account," in which one hopes to translate the sublime and fluid language of instincts for the sake of assurance and guarantee.
Writing (book-keeping, journals, etc.) and technological innovations (day-planners, computers) have this interpretation of language guiding their development. Nay, the whole of Western-dialectics develops out of this feeling of vertigo. The root of American capitalism is to be found in words that have rigidified themselves into fixed meanings: a clear sign of disintegrated instincts. No wonder Americans are inclined to "talk about" anything and everything that appears to them as a problem as way of solving these problems. America: the most scholarly culture that has ever been.