Monday, February 28, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
another revised poem...
Anniversary
Laughing I grasp familiar grief
as you hold fast; to laugh with me
you hold fast so a rustling leaf
won't frighten us along this road.
You intimate the light I'd see
as in an image far too brief,
reflected in a mirrored sea.
So long ago, see stars explode -
laughing I hope to find us free
to love even as all comes to grief.
Laughing I grasp familiar grief
as you hold fast; to laugh with me
you hold fast so a rustling leaf
won't frighten us along this road.
You intimate the light I'd see
as in an image far too brief,
reflected in a mirrored sea.
So long ago, see stars explode -
laughing I hope to find us free
to love even as all comes to grief.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
a revision of an older poem...
As the Last Birdsong Fades
Heart gladdened with wine, I caress
a sanctuary of stone, its frieze half-hidden in shadow.
See Mary carved from that stone, her child cruciform in her lap.
There also his suppliant saints and apostles press,
barely eroded these many years:
here’s a garden of stone and green trees, growing
shadow, coming night, beyond time to find at last my way home
as the last birdsong fades.
Heart gladdened with wine, I caress
a sanctuary of stone, its frieze half-hidden in shadow.
See Mary carved from that stone, her child cruciform in her lap.
There also his suppliant saints and apostles press,
barely eroded these many years:
here’s a garden of stone and green trees, growing
shadow, coming night, beyond time to find at last my way home
as the last birdsong fades.
on the other hand...
I don't know what to make of this story of US backing of a pro-democracy movement in Egypt. It bears more scrutiny, and, if true, more thought...
austere beauty...
Getting this picture of Lake Michigan took ten years off my life, but it was worth it. revolution whether we like it or not...
I hesitate to write anything about the political upheavals in Tunisia and Egypt - my ignorance prevents me from waxing confidently about the future. It does seem to me however that we are witnessing something on the scale of the collapse of Communist power in eastern Europe. Just one more slight push, and the Egyptian regime will fall, to be replaced by who knows what...that's the great unknown. All is contingent; no empire, no system is flawless and permanent. For thirty years, Mubarak's regime has seemed a fixed point in our dream of a stable - that is, America friendly - Middle East. That is now revealed as an illusion. Even if this revolution fails, it will have so destabilized Egypt that it's fall will come sooner rather than later, and what passes for our Grand Strategy in the region will fall with it.
Of course, our Grand Strategy is no strategy at all. We go with the wind, supporting any strongman who will promise 'stability' in the region, until, at the last, they outlive their usefulness. Our only point of principle is support for Israel, which also allows us to use whatever leverage we have at any moment to reign them in when they want to unleash their air force. [Yes, I think Israel would be far more aggressive and expansionist without our involvement.] Beyond 'Support Israel', based too often on dubious reasons having more to do with apocalyptic fantasies than realistic policy, we really have no carefully thought out approach to the region. Hence our panic in the face of Mubarak's possible fall. We just don't know what the hell to do with such contingency; such, well, history right in our faces.
Now I for one fear that certain more utopian factions might take over the rather inchoate uprisings. That's never good for the real people who tend to get mowed under as necessary sacrifices for the Great Utopia That Is Coming. If that happens, it's likely that the Copts and other Christians in the country will be in grave danger; but, then again, so will just about everyone else.
Then again, my fears could be unfounded. This could lead to a freer Egypt, though just what the particulars of that would be is anybody's guess. That's the point - we just don't know what's going on, let alone what will happen.
What I do know is that this is one more blow to our dreams of hegemony. I also wouldn't be surprised if this results in even greater crackdowns here in the US on air and rail travel as well as subversive speech. We are a terrified people, you see, and so obsessed with security that the chaos and contingency erupting out of the Mediterranean could finally scare us into embracing a fully formed soft fascism. I hope I'm wrong about that, but I'm not really that hopeful about our future as a civil nation.
Last night I had a fascinating conversation with a fellow from Northern Ireland who said he felt that State power was greater, and more threatening, than at any time he's known. He said that we should start worrying when we hear folks say, 'If you're not doing anything wrong, you have nothing to be afraid of', as a justification for the ever-tightening security net in this country. Well, I hear that all the time. Pay no never mind to the fact that more and more we're criminalizing basic human behavior, and allowing ourselves to be monitored and searched as though we were all suspects and not citizens - as long as you do no wrong, you don't have anything to worry about, until, that is, we decide that what you're doing is wrong.
So you see, the revolutionary unrest in Egypt and other far away lands could have serious, and subtle, effects on our daily lives. We wring our hands over the price of oil - 'What about the Suez canal?' - and fail to see all around us the tightening noose of a Security State. Again, I worry that this process will only accelerate as we panic over the spectre of uncontrollable contingency - i.e., history - spilling over once again into our happy kingdom of order and prosperity. This horror at history accounts for our dull-witted policy in the Middle East, and thus our muddled response to the revolution unfolding before us. We are, it would seem, about to lose our innocence once again, as we learn, perhaps for the last time, that history has not in fact come to an end.
Of course, our Grand Strategy is no strategy at all. We go with the wind, supporting any strongman who will promise 'stability' in the region, until, at the last, they outlive their usefulness. Our only point of principle is support for Israel, which also allows us to use whatever leverage we have at any moment to reign them in when they want to unleash their air force. [Yes, I think Israel would be far more aggressive and expansionist without our involvement.] Beyond 'Support Israel', based too often on dubious reasons having more to do with apocalyptic fantasies than realistic policy, we really have no carefully thought out approach to the region. Hence our panic in the face of Mubarak's possible fall. We just don't know what the hell to do with such contingency; such, well, history right in our faces.
Now I for one fear that certain more utopian factions might take over the rather inchoate uprisings. That's never good for the real people who tend to get mowed under as necessary sacrifices for the Great Utopia That Is Coming. If that happens, it's likely that the Copts and other Christians in the country will be in grave danger; but, then again, so will just about everyone else.
Then again, my fears could be unfounded. This could lead to a freer Egypt, though just what the particulars of that would be is anybody's guess. That's the point - we just don't know what's going on, let alone what will happen.
What I do know is that this is one more blow to our dreams of hegemony. I also wouldn't be surprised if this results in even greater crackdowns here in the US on air and rail travel as well as subversive speech. We are a terrified people, you see, and so obsessed with security that the chaos and contingency erupting out of the Mediterranean could finally scare us into embracing a fully formed soft fascism. I hope I'm wrong about that, but I'm not really that hopeful about our future as a civil nation.
Last night I had a fascinating conversation with a fellow from Northern Ireland who said he felt that State power was greater, and more threatening, than at any time he's known. He said that we should start worrying when we hear folks say, 'If you're not doing anything wrong, you have nothing to be afraid of', as a justification for the ever-tightening security net in this country. Well, I hear that all the time. Pay no never mind to the fact that more and more we're criminalizing basic human behavior, and allowing ourselves to be monitored and searched as though we were all suspects and not citizens - as long as you do no wrong, you don't have anything to worry about, until, that is, we decide that what you're doing is wrong.
So you see, the revolutionary unrest in Egypt and other far away lands could have serious, and subtle, effects on our daily lives. We wring our hands over the price of oil - 'What about the Suez canal?' - and fail to see all around us the tightening noose of a Security State. Again, I worry that this process will only accelerate as we panic over the spectre of uncontrollable contingency - i.e., history - spilling over once again into our happy kingdom of order and prosperity. This horror at history accounts for our dull-witted policy in the Middle East, and thus our muddled response to the revolution unfolding before us. We are, it would seem, about to lose our innocence once again, as we learn, perhaps for the last time, that history has not in fact come to an end.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
ah, blasphemy...
Just thought I'd react rashly to this article about the trial of Geert Wilders. I know little enough about Wilders and his political party, which is to say, I only know what I read from time to time in the news. For that reason, I have nothing intelligent to say about the man or his party. No, I want to say a few words about words, and about Islam. Along the way, I warn you, even the casual reader will find multiple instances of what that religion considers blasphemy. As you will see, dear reader, I've concluded that that is just too damned bad.
Now, I have read the Quran. When I first encountered it, I was in a receptive frame of mind, being at that time a 24 year old student of medieval philosophy and theology kindly disposed to Islamic mysticism and the works of al-Gazali. To my surprise, I found much of it distressing, to say the least, but there were dogmatic, theological reasons for that, reasons which I could at the time barely articulate. What I had realized, without knowing how to say it clearly, was that Islam is, in its core confession, blasphemous.
We'll get to that in a moment. For now, let me say that as you find me, I agree with this, taken from the article: '“No moderate Islam exists,” Jansen said; “moderate Muslims do exist,” but they do not have scripture on their side.'
Why, you might ask, given that I know Muslims who are learned, kind, and open? Well, I'll tell you, it's the simple fact that Islam did come tear-assing out of the Arabian peninsula, and from there conquered by the sword most of Christendom. From that era to the present, the history of Islam has been one of conquest and oppression of Christians when possible, and disgruntled resentment of Christians when not. We're in a transition time, I think, and so Muslims around the world use threats of violence to silence those in the West and elsewhere who might raise a critical point with regard to the Religion of the Prophet. I note, for instance, as does the article, that Wilders public remarks and policy proposals have not resulted in the kind of violence the ridiculous laws governing speech in his country is supposed to prevent, but Wilders and others have received death threats, and some, like Theo van Gogh, have received much worse.
Here I must digress for a moment.
Speech is supposed to be provocative. It's meant to arouse folks, to move 'em. That's the risk inherent in speech - it will inevitably lead to hurt feelings and flared tempers. More dire is the simple fact that any real clash of ideas, confessions, loyalties, is a conflict over Truth. That's just the way it is. And it is just this that a Liberal Democracy can not allow any more than Fascism can - free speech leading to conflict. For the later, this is an existential threat [to use a fashionable phrase] to Leader wielding the Fasces; for the former, it is a threat to the system's procedural neutrality. Such conflicts, again, result from the fact that for the parties so incited, nothing less than Truth is at stake, and it is just this kind of truth that undermines both Liberal Democracy and Fascism.
We'll pick that back up in a moment. For now, let me say that Muslims might take umbrage at my position on relations between Christians and Islam. What is that position? Succinctly put, that Islam is our enemy. We may befriend particular Muslims as the chance arises, but we cannot make nice with Islam itself. Islam, dear reader, is grounded on many interlocking confessions, one of which is of course crucial: God has no Son. This, rather than some silly notion that Allah is a Voluntarist while Yahweh is a Thomist, articulates quite honestly the great divide, for to a Christian of even lukewarm devotion like me, such a confession is nothing less than blasphemy.
Now here's where it gets tricky. Precisely the Christian confession that God simply is the Father begetting the Son in the Holy Spirit in all eternity world without end, and that the Son was born of the Virgin Mary as a very real man in a particular place at a particular time, and that moreover he died a shameful death on the cross to save humanity from sin and death, to be raised again...well, let's say that to a Muslim, that must sound like blasphemy. In fact, it was just this assertion that justified the conquest of Christendom in North Africa, the Levant, Anatolia; other blasphemies exercised 'em in Persia. I say this, not as a good relativist who wants to point out that one man's devout confession is another man's blasphemy. That may indeed be so, but I'm willing to get into serious trouble here - it's too damned bad that Muslims find the Christian confession blasphemous. They should get over it. After all, the Christian confession has the virtue of being true.
To return, then, to what I said about provocative speech, here we see the crux of the confusion many feel when they observe Muslims and Christians in conflict - it is an intractable conflict over ultimate Truth. To many Christians, it is indeed an eschatological conflict, inasmuch as Jesus is the incarnate Son whose crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension have brought on the New Aeon, while Islam is a relic of the Old Aeon fighting its demise. To say this in no way implies that the conflict need be violent, at least on the Christian side. Of course, in the day when outright war was waged on Christendom [Vienna, anyone? Lepanto? Barbary pirates?], folks could exercise the right of self-defense. But never should we indulge in individual acts of violence, because that would be, you know, wrong. We must also welcome those Muslims we know, and not befriend 'em on false pretenses. This imples, of course, that we not lie to 'em about the simple facts of our history, or the simple deception at the heart of their confession. Nor, for that matter, should we expect 'em to lie to us, to hold back to spare our fine feelings.
In short, we must grow up, all of us, and boldly confess the Truth, taking all the risks that implies. The least interesting response to any assertion of Truth is hurt feelings and offense. Argue, accept conflict, and don't look to any kind of procedural neutrality or authoritarian order to ameliorate it. Finally, let us pray that we who claim to be Christians might spend our days in peace and repentance, praying for our enemies that they might become our friends, and reaching out in love to those we fear, all for the sake of Jesus Christ, the incarnate Son of the living God, who trampled down death by death for the life of the world.
Now, I have read the Quran. When I first encountered it, I was in a receptive frame of mind, being at that time a 24 year old student of medieval philosophy and theology kindly disposed to Islamic mysticism and the works of al-Gazali. To my surprise, I found much of it distressing, to say the least, but there were dogmatic, theological reasons for that, reasons which I could at the time barely articulate. What I had realized, without knowing how to say it clearly, was that Islam is, in its core confession, blasphemous.
We'll get to that in a moment. For now, let me say that as you find me, I agree with this, taken from the article: '“No moderate Islam exists,” Jansen said; “moderate Muslims do exist,” but they do not have scripture on their side.'
Why, you might ask, given that I know Muslims who are learned, kind, and open? Well, I'll tell you, it's the simple fact that Islam did come tear-assing out of the Arabian peninsula, and from there conquered by the sword most of Christendom. From that era to the present, the history of Islam has been one of conquest and oppression of Christians when possible, and disgruntled resentment of Christians when not. We're in a transition time, I think, and so Muslims around the world use threats of violence to silence those in the West and elsewhere who might raise a critical point with regard to the Religion of the Prophet. I note, for instance, as does the article, that Wilders public remarks and policy proposals have not resulted in the kind of violence the ridiculous laws governing speech in his country is supposed to prevent, but Wilders and others have received death threats, and some, like Theo van Gogh, have received much worse.
Here I must digress for a moment.
Speech is supposed to be provocative. It's meant to arouse folks, to move 'em. That's the risk inherent in speech - it will inevitably lead to hurt feelings and flared tempers. More dire is the simple fact that any real clash of ideas, confessions, loyalties, is a conflict over Truth. That's just the way it is. And it is just this that a Liberal Democracy can not allow any more than Fascism can - free speech leading to conflict. For the later, this is an existential threat [to use a fashionable phrase] to Leader wielding the Fasces; for the former, it is a threat to the system's procedural neutrality. Such conflicts, again, result from the fact that for the parties so incited, nothing less than Truth is at stake, and it is just this kind of truth that undermines both Liberal Democracy and Fascism.
We'll pick that back up in a moment. For now, let me say that Muslims might take umbrage at my position on relations between Christians and Islam. What is that position? Succinctly put, that Islam is our enemy. We may befriend particular Muslims as the chance arises, but we cannot make nice with Islam itself. Islam, dear reader, is grounded on many interlocking confessions, one of which is of course crucial: God has no Son. This, rather than some silly notion that Allah is a Voluntarist while Yahweh is a Thomist, articulates quite honestly the great divide, for to a Christian of even lukewarm devotion like me, such a confession is nothing less than blasphemy.
Now here's where it gets tricky. Precisely the Christian confession that God simply is the Father begetting the Son in the Holy Spirit in all eternity world without end, and that the Son was born of the Virgin Mary as a very real man in a particular place at a particular time, and that moreover he died a shameful death on the cross to save humanity from sin and death, to be raised again...well, let's say that to a Muslim, that must sound like blasphemy. In fact, it was just this assertion that justified the conquest of Christendom in North Africa, the Levant, Anatolia; other blasphemies exercised 'em in Persia. I say this, not as a good relativist who wants to point out that one man's devout confession is another man's blasphemy. That may indeed be so, but I'm willing to get into serious trouble here - it's too damned bad that Muslims find the Christian confession blasphemous. They should get over it. After all, the Christian confession has the virtue of being true.
To return, then, to what I said about provocative speech, here we see the crux of the confusion many feel when they observe Muslims and Christians in conflict - it is an intractable conflict over ultimate Truth. To many Christians, it is indeed an eschatological conflict, inasmuch as Jesus is the incarnate Son whose crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension have brought on the New Aeon, while Islam is a relic of the Old Aeon fighting its demise. To say this in no way implies that the conflict need be violent, at least on the Christian side. Of course, in the day when outright war was waged on Christendom [Vienna, anyone? Lepanto? Barbary pirates?], folks could exercise the right of self-defense. But never should we indulge in individual acts of violence, because that would be, you know, wrong. We must also welcome those Muslims we know, and not befriend 'em on false pretenses. This imples, of course, that we not lie to 'em about the simple facts of our history, or the simple deception at the heart of their confession. Nor, for that matter, should we expect 'em to lie to us, to hold back to spare our fine feelings.
In short, we must grow up, all of us, and boldly confess the Truth, taking all the risks that implies. The least interesting response to any assertion of Truth is hurt feelings and offense. Argue, accept conflict, and don't look to any kind of procedural neutrality or authoritarian order to ameliorate it. Finally, let us pray that we who claim to be Christians might spend our days in peace and repentance, praying for our enemies that they might become our friends, and reaching out in love to those we fear, all for the sake of Jesus Christ, the incarnate Son of the living God, who trampled down death by death for the life of the world.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
saving the planet...
Saw an ad last night for the Nissan Leaf. I wonder how many coal fired and nuclear power plants we'll have to build in order to charge all these electric cars.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
weather report...
It's snowing! In the middle of winter! In Columbus Ohio! My god it's the end of the world! Panic! Stop in the middle of the interstate and cry! ... What?! Look! Another weather alert! O merciful heavens we have weather! Weather will kill us all! And I've never seen Barbados, or made love to a woman with red hair! O regret! O humanity!
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
not a movie review...
Tron was bad, and not that Ed Wood 'The future is where we will spend the rest of our lives' bad either...it ripped off The Dark Knight, The Matrix, and, yes, the Bourne movies, right down to the score (a combination of DK and Bourne), and the obviously Bourned final title sequence. And, and, it offers half-baked Zen plus some pop-hegalian theodicy...then there's the occasional appearance of The Dude...fascinating as pop artifact, terrible as a film...more to come...
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Monday, December 6, 2010
odds and ends...
So I just love making diatonic triads, and I'm obsessed with 9/8 time with a swing feel. Don't know what's come over me...
*****
You say you want a revolution? There's a gift card for that.
*****
Hegel called over the weekend to apologize. I was gracious and magnanimous all at the same time.
*****
Looking at my bookshelves I realize, I just can't quit the Russians.
*****
Snow on the ground outside my window - the work season has officially ended. It's time to play - literally, since I'm buying a new used acoustic guitar today.
*****
Oh, yeah, peace out...
*****
You say you want a revolution? There's a gift card for that.
*****
Hegel called over the weekend to apologize. I was gracious and magnanimous all at the same time.
*****
Looking at my bookshelves I realize, I just can't quit the Russians.
*****
Snow on the ground outside my window - the work season has officially ended. It's time to play - literally, since I'm buying a new used acoustic guitar today.
*****
Oh, yeah, peace out...
Sunday, December 5, 2010
i thought i'd whine a little...
Nothing happened this morning, nothing at all. It's just, well, I was so bored. I miss the cycle of festivals - the church has her own time you know - and I miss liturgy. To be sure, there are no drums in the sanctuary, and the gaggle is ordered and solemn and not at all superficial. No, it's me - I feel - and in saying this I make no large claims for anyone else - I feel cut off from the Church.
That's my problem, yes, and it's far from a new problem to be sure, and there is no solution ready to hand I dare say...and yet, yet, I was bored, soooo very booored. The sermon was damn fine, the folks were friendly, there was decency, good order, and suchlikethatthere...and I was soooo boooooooored. In fact, 'boredom' doesn't quite say all - ennui, that's better - ennui, that French mashup of boredom and existential emptiness.
Oh, and no matter how hard I try, I just can't bring myself to think that these fine folks are right about the Eucharist and baptism...close they are, but not quite there - devout all the same, which makes it hard, but still wrong wrong wrong... And yet I really love 'em. Go figure...
That's my problem, yes, and it's far from a new problem to be sure, and there is no solution ready to hand I dare say...and yet, yet, I was bored, soooo very booored. The sermon was damn fine, the folks were friendly, there was decency, good order, and suchlikethatthere...and I was soooo boooooooored. In fact, 'boredom' doesn't quite say all - ennui, that's better - ennui, that French mashup of boredom and existential emptiness.
Oh, and no matter how hard I try, I just can't bring myself to think that these fine folks are right about the Eucharist and baptism...close they are, but not quite there - devout all the same, which makes it hard, but still wrong wrong wrong... And yet I really love 'em. Go figure...
a poem...
...and where were you
I'd like to know – don't tell me that
you didn't know the hour,
don't say you've been here all along -
there, go ahead now, tell
me where you've been – it's been a long
night you know – you might
have called or sent a line or –
I’m tired from counting
milepost after milepost as they passed me by -
waiting as I sped along
for you to catch me – by the way
I’m well - you didn't ask,
you have your reasons, though – why
won't you please tell me where
you were – it's not like you've seized
the chance to say your say –
silent still? silent as the sea –
fine – have it your way – it's just
that I've waited...
I'd like to know – don't tell me that
you didn't know the hour,
don't say you've been here all along -
there, go ahead now, tell
me where you've been – it's been a long
night you know – you might
have called or sent a line or –
I’m tired from counting
milepost after milepost as they passed me by -
waiting as I sped along
for you to catch me – by the way
I’m well - you didn't ask,
you have your reasons, though – why
won't you please tell me where
you were – it's not like you've seized
the chance to say your say –
silent still? silent as the sea –
fine – have it your way – it's just
that I've waited...
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
tolstoy again...
The narrator of War and Peace - none other than Tolstoy himself perhaps? - is capable of subtle irony and humor in the pursuit of moral perception. One can, of course, offer this passage as an example of the former:
'Since the end of the year 1811 an intense arming and concentration of western European forces had begun, and in the year 1812 those forces - millions of men (including those who transported and fed them) - moved from west to east, to the borders of Russia, towards which, since the year 1811, the forces of Russia had been drawn in exactly the same way. On the twelfth of June, the forces of western Europe crossed the borders of Russia, and war began - that is, an even took place contrary to human reason and to the whole of human nature' [III.i.1].
Too true, that, but it's also the start of an extended essayistical meditation on necessity and freedom in history. Note that western and Russian forces seem drawn to the border of Russia like iron filings following a magnet under a piece of paper. What's more, even, or rather, especially the Great Ones, Napoleon and Alexander, are 'slaves of history', caught in a web of forces set in motion by a million contingent decisions and actions. So says the narrator - and I think he's on to something.
Still, I must confess that there are other passages even more biting in their anger-forged irony, while being quite funny if you linger with 'em a moment. Consider this - there is no need for any context I should think:
'Balaga was a famous troika driver, who had known Dolokhov and Anatole for six years already and furnished them with his troikas.... More than once he had driven Dolokhov, when he had had to elude pursuit; more than once he had taken them for a ride around town with Gypsies and "damsels," as Balaga called them. More than once, while in their employ, he had run down folk and cabbies in Moscow, and his "gentlemen," as he called them, had always helped him out. More than once he had been overdriven under them. More than once he had been beaten by them; more than once they had gotten him drunk on champagne and Medeira, which he liked, and he knew a thing or two about each of them which would have sent an ordinary man to Siberia long ago.... While in their service, he risked his life and his hide twenty times a year, and he had driven more horses to death than they had paid him in roubles. But he liked them.... He liked giving a painful lash on the neck to a peasant, who even without that was trying, more dead than alive, to get out of his way. "Real gentlemen!" he thought' [II.v.16].
'Since the end of the year 1811 an intense arming and concentration of western European forces had begun, and in the year 1812 those forces - millions of men (including those who transported and fed them) - moved from west to east, to the borders of Russia, towards which, since the year 1811, the forces of Russia had been drawn in exactly the same way. On the twelfth of June, the forces of western Europe crossed the borders of Russia, and war began - that is, an even took place contrary to human reason and to the whole of human nature' [III.i.1].
Too true, that, but it's also the start of an extended essayistical meditation on necessity and freedom in history. Note that western and Russian forces seem drawn to the border of Russia like iron filings following a magnet under a piece of paper. What's more, even, or rather, especially the Great Ones, Napoleon and Alexander, are 'slaves of history', caught in a web of forces set in motion by a million contingent decisions and actions. So says the narrator - and I think he's on to something.
Still, I must confess that there are other passages even more biting in their anger-forged irony, while being quite funny if you linger with 'em a moment. Consider this - there is no need for any context I should think:
'Balaga was a famous troika driver, who had known Dolokhov and Anatole for six years already and furnished them with his troikas.... More than once he had driven Dolokhov, when he had had to elude pursuit; more than once he had taken them for a ride around town with Gypsies and "damsels," as Balaga called them. More than once, while in their employ, he had run down folk and cabbies in Moscow, and his "gentlemen," as he called them, had always helped him out. More than once he had been overdriven under them. More than once he had been beaten by them; more than once they had gotten him drunk on champagne and Medeira, which he liked, and he knew a thing or two about each of them which would have sent an ordinary man to Siberia long ago.... While in their service, he risked his life and his hide twenty times a year, and he had driven more horses to death than they had paid him in roubles. But he liked them.... He liked giving a painful lash on the neck to a peasant, who even without that was trying, more dead than alive, to get out of his way. "Real gentlemen!" he thought' [II.v.16].
another poem in progress...
Sonata
Of the spewing forth of words there is no
end, mouth an open grave that swallows
sulfurous dew a woman’s cinnamon-drenched
hair memories of orange groves, pears,
uncertain voices and childish cries, longing
lost under the sun, gravel under foot;
there is no end, o child, o dayspring, judge
of rites and festivals, for our lady hawks
onions by the road, yet o it’s a broad and lovely
road, as broad as pasture overgrown with
nettles, palms, rattlesnakes; look, along
the broad disheveled road at night a burning
cross, a liturgy to a cloaked and boring god;
of the spewing forth of words there is no
end, book after book devoured, tossed
aside while all was green under the sun
of summer after stripping off that cincture, burning
that alb, to skip along free of vestments, water
from a cracking font, to stand no longer
in the fire under the sun, o trial, o burden hard
to bear, at war with my tongue and with my
hands, for all is now and ever shall be,
shall be, as the shattered ‘I’, limestone,
fossil foraminifera, splintered
driftwood on the shore all swirl under the sun
and mock our present; still we remember,
through the ache of parting spouses in a marriage
bed, fire flashing off each face like hard struck
flint, that garden of time wherein we sleep
together: may we not yet break from nostalgia;
so of the spewing forth of words there is no
end – mouth’s an open grave which swallows
all, tongue’s a weapon of destruction,
but o my heart remember, let the waterfall
with trumpet blast not catch you fast asleep
under the sun–
Of the spewing forth of words there is no
end, mouth an open grave that swallows
sulfurous dew a woman’s cinnamon-drenched
hair memories of orange groves, pears,
uncertain voices and childish cries, longing
lost under the sun, gravel under foot;
there is no end, o child, o dayspring, judge
of rites and festivals, for our lady hawks
onions by the road, yet o it’s a broad and lovely
road, as broad as pasture overgrown with
nettles, palms, rattlesnakes; look, along
the broad disheveled road at night a burning
cross, a liturgy to a cloaked and boring god;
of the spewing forth of words there is no
end, book after book devoured, tossed
aside while all was green under the sun
of summer after stripping off that cincture, burning
that alb, to skip along free of vestments, water
from a cracking font, to stand no longer
in the fire under the sun, o trial, o burden hard
to bear, at war with my tongue and with my
hands, for all is now and ever shall be,
shall be, as the shattered ‘I’, limestone,
fossil foraminifera, splintered
driftwood on the shore all swirl under the sun
and mock our present; still we remember,
through the ache of parting spouses in a marriage
bed, fire flashing off each face like hard struck
flint, that garden of time wherein we sleep
together: may we not yet break from nostalgia;
so of the spewing forth of words there is no
end – mouth’s an open grave which swallows
all, tongue’s a weapon of destruction,
but o my heart remember, let the waterfall
with trumpet blast not catch you fast asleep
under the sun–
a poem...
Twilight
Autumn’s hymn falls silent
clouds hide the sun I may never
recognize the moon if she
shows through again
Curse this muted light this early
hour I’d have light diaphanous
as water each breeze a kiss
no shade no dark
Still there is a light
clouds will never hide this hour
Chase o chase that light the night
has not yet come
Autumn’s hymn falls silent
clouds hide the sun I may never
recognize the moon if she
shows through again
Curse this muted light this early
hour I’d have light diaphanous
as water each breeze a kiss
no shade no dark
Still there is a light
clouds will never hide this hour
Chase o chase that light the night
has not yet come
acting my age...
So, it's raining out there. To be precise, it's pouring out there. And, and, I just woke myself up at a coffee shop - seems I was snoring. I leave the conclusion as an exercise for the reader....
Monday, November 29, 2010
i've seen this movie as well...
'About 20 percent of the comets visible from Earth were sent by a dark, distant planet'...do you think they know how that sounds?
can they get an amen...
My friends, we here at ER have made our objections to that horrible Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer song and TV show quite clear. Well, in that spirit, I offer you Cracked.com's fine article on The Wizard of Oz, one of the most depraved movies ever made. Truly, it's wicked - no one should allow their children to watch it.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
no one should ever ask me anything...
A fellow at work wants to be a poet. This came as a surprise to me, for he has always seemed such a sensible sort. Anyway, he knows I write poems, so he asks, 'How do you know you're a poet?' Well, that's a good question. 'Because I write poems', I replied. Then I ask, 'Do you write poems?' 'No', he says, 'but I really want to'. 'Well, until you start writing poems you aren't a poet'. 'So, all I have to do is start writing poems?' he asks. 'Yes. But be careful - not all who think they're writing poems are writing poems'. 'But if it looks like a poem, I mean, if it's got rhymes and all, isn't it a poem?' 'Not always.' 'Then how will I know if I am really writing poems?' 'By writing poems'. 'This is confusing', he says finally.
Yes, yes it is...
Yes, yes it is...
a fine post i wish i'd written...
I found this beautiful and true in most every respect. Now, I undermined it all when I laughed out loud just once: 'Why are clowns so frightening? Their demonic aura comes from the fact that they never stop smiling. Hell is the country of clowns, where tormented strangers smile at one another compulsively and forever.' It's not that I'm large, and thus contain multitudes. I aspire to serve the hobgoblin of little minds. No, it's just funny because it's true.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
take and read he said...
A friend sent me Inside Beethoven's Quartets: History, Performance, Interpretation, by Lewis Lockwood et al. Since Beethoven's string quartets are amongst my Favorite Things, I'm giddy at receiving such a gift. It includes a helpful CD. I need it, as I can't sight-read a score, annotated or otherwise. Yes, I really should learn some music theory...
from the old endlessly rocking...
Been thinking that it may not be worth it to keep this new site going: i don't know, i just don't know...
Thursday, November 18, 2010
it's beginning to look a lot like Advent...
Of course the stores put out their Advent displays way too early - I mean, we aren't even out of Ordinary Time. O well. I could complain all day about the commercialization of Advent, but that would dilute my happy sense of anticipation.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
reflections on 9/11...
'9/11' - the mere mention of it trumps all reason. A mixture of fear and sentimentality prevails over any fact on the ground. The date itself has acquired an apocalyptic significance. Just what the events of that day reveal, beyond the horror of utopian fantasies and the predictability of evil, is anybody's guess. Pay that no never mind - we can justify any war, any act of torture by the mere mention of 9/11. Speak that magic incantation, and people will surrender all their liberties, degrade themselves, and buy anything that seems to offer safety.
The events of that day have indeed left us traumatized, but not because of the obvious outrage of the attacks themselves. No, once again, our putative innocence was lost; once again, we were brought face to face with history, that inescapable saeculum we all share. For America, history is the temporal realm of The Fall, and by definition the US is such a novum, its founding such an eschatological watershed ushering in a New World Order no less, that anything that reminds us that we are, you know, folks emmeshed in fallen history and subject to all its shocks and terrors, seems to cause what I can only call a collective fugue state. That the attacks of 9/11 were the climactic acts of an enemy with whom we had been at war for nearly a decade; that the attackers were helped by insiders who brought the weapons aboard ahead of time; that the attack was the result, not of a failure of airport security, but of incompetence and a criminal lack of cooperation amongst the CIA, NSA, and the FBI; all of that gets lost in a fog of sentiment. We surround the sites of our trauma with shrines of kitsch, and stifle all argument with manipulative, and tearful, recollections of the victims. Just so we conspire to hide the hard meaninglessness of that day's violence.
The violence of 9/11 was, and is, an outrage. It should not have happened. Those who took those planes and flew 'em into those buildings committed great evils. Thousands died simply to satisfy the fantasies of a group of well-funded, uselessly intelligent nihilists. It was in fact a skirmish of sorts in a global war that started years before and that has cost millions of lives in Africa and Asia, a war that has seen millions of others enslaved by a new wave of fascist nihilism that is all the more virulent than that of the 20th century for being decentralized and mobile. Given the scope and persistence of that war - which ramifies throughout Oceania, Asia, Africa, and perhaps even Mexico with it's current war - that there has not been a repeat of 9/11 on these shores is likely due to thousands of hours of painstaking work by wonkish analysts and spies and the like, and for that we should be grateful.
All the same, we cannot pretend any longer, if we ever could, that we are exempt from history's terrors. That isn't a reason for resignation or timidity, but a summons to risk and bold action in the name of the Good, knowing that all things in this world will end, and that we can only do many goods in approximation and yearning for that Good. We must, finally, remember that history is the theater, if you will, wherein God accomplished all that was necessary for us and for our salvation. We have nothing to fear from fallen history, or from the repetitive emptiness of evil, for he brought all newness in bringing himself.
So, forget the false eschatology of the American Myth, put aside the kitsch and the shrines and the dreams of safety, and look the enemy in the eye, facing the uncomfortable truth that we both inhabit a small planet emmeshed in a common history. And above all, don't be afraid.
Peace out.
The events of that day have indeed left us traumatized, but not because of the obvious outrage of the attacks themselves. No, once again, our putative innocence was lost; once again, we were brought face to face with history, that inescapable saeculum we all share. For America, history is the temporal realm of The Fall, and by definition the US is such a novum, its founding such an eschatological watershed ushering in a New World Order no less, that anything that reminds us that we are, you know, folks emmeshed in fallen history and subject to all its shocks and terrors, seems to cause what I can only call a collective fugue state. That the attacks of 9/11 were the climactic acts of an enemy with whom we had been at war for nearly a decade; that the attackers were helped by insiders who brought the weapons aboard ahead of time; that the attack was the result, not of a failure of airport security, but of incompetence and a criminal lack of cooperation amongst the CIA, NSA, and the FBI; all of that gets lost in a fog of sentiment. We surround the sites of our trauma with shrines of kitsch, and stifle all argument with manipulative, and tearful, recollections of the victims. Just so we conspire to hide the hard meaninglessness of that day's violence.
The violence of 9/11 was, and is, an outrage. It should not have happened. Those who took those planes and flew 'em into those buildings committed great evils. Thousands died simply to satisfy the fantasies of a group of well-funded, uselessly intelligent nihilists. It was in fact a skirmish of sorts in a global war that started years before and that has cost millions of lives in Africa and Asia, a war that has seen millions of others enslaved by a new wave of fascist nihilism that is all the more virulent than that of the 20th century for being decentralized and mobile. Given the scope and persistence of that war - which ramifies throughout Oceania, Asia, Africa, and perhaps even Mexico with it's current war - that there has not been a repeat of 9/11 on these shores is likely due to thousands of hours of painstaking work by wonkish analysts and spies and the like, and for that we should be grateful.
All the same, we cannot pretend any longer, if we ever could, that we are exempt from history's terrors. That isn't a reason for resignation or timidity, but a summons to risk and bold action in the name of the Good, knowing that all things in this world will end, and that we can only do many goods in approximation and yearning for that Good. We must, finally, remember that history is the theater, if you will, wherein God accomplished all that was necessary for us and for our salvation. We have nothing to fear from fallen history, or from the repetitive emptiness of evil, for he brought all newness in bringing himself.
So, forget the false eschatology of the American Myth, put aside the kitsch and the shrines and the dreams of safety, and look the enemy in the eye, facing the uncomfortable truth that we both inhabit a small planet emmeshed in a common history. And above all, don't be afraid.
Peace out.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
news to me...
The already cool opening to Pink Floyd's 'Money' is even cooler when you realize it's in 7/4, and you start feeling and counting all at the same time. I'm sure everyone else caught that a long time ago, but I've shamefully neglected music theory and the technicalities of time...
Monday, November 15, 2010
AAAAARRRGGGHHHH!!!!!!!
Good God, the 'Christmas Songs' are here! Make 'em stop! I don't want to pretend a Snowman is Parson Brown! 'And don't forget to hang up your sock' - don't play that song! in the name of all that's good and holy don't do it! Thanksgiving ain't even here, and I've had to endure the ringing of Sleigh Bells in a Land That Is Glistening...the torment! the emptiness! For the love of...God...save us...
can i put this on my resume?
So, it seems I've balanced the budget. I wonder - if I ran for office on such a collection of taxes and spending cuts, would I get shot the day after I started the campaign, or the day before the primary? 'Tis a poser, my friends...
Friday, November 12, 2010
plus la change...keep the change...it's all the same...
Work has slowed to the point that I can often get home before nine in the evening. That doesn't mean the season is officially over - I signed a new customer last night, and have several contracts to close before the end of November. Still, the end is near, my rest is at hand.
Didn't have the best year; at least, I didn't have the year I wanted. Around the middle of the summer, I took several blows that nearly undid me, from stunning denials by insurance adjusters, to customers who backed out of agreements without so much as pretending to have a conscience. It all brought your humble narrator quite low, and had me noodling over quitting yet again. Surely, surely, my instinct told me, there must be something better.
I didn't quit. In fact, after losing so many battles in the middle of the season; after getting beat to hell; after falling to the bottom third of sales reps company wide; after all that, I say, it has all turned out all right somehow...somehow, again let me say, somehow, because don't know how or why it has all worked out all right. I just know it has. I've come from near the bottom to right around fourth place, with third in view. Now, I wanted to be number one my friends, but no, I apparently needed humility. Well, I don't know if I feel humble - in fact, I doubt that has anything to do with humility. I do know that I've been brought low, and then allowed to get back up.
In short, this is nothing new at all, nothing spectacular. Grace inscrutable and incalculable saved me once again from disaster. And that, dear reader, is nothing new either - so it is with all of you, with all that is but would cease to be without that act of being that is at once gratuitous and expressive of the nature of God as one who diffuses goodness, beauty and truth in the very act of making and sustaining all that is seen and unseen.
For me, the least important person in the whole story, all this is a gift - I get to earn a living, working honestly for my customers. There's nothing spectacular, nothing particularly interesting about it. What's more, it could be taken away at any moment. As I consider the careening stupidity of leaders elected and otherwise, which stupidity pales compared to my own, I realize more and more how powerless I am over anything out there. All I can do is show up every day and do my job. The wider world will have to take care of itself...or, rather, it is taken care of, so I needn't worry about it.
Peace out.
Didn't have the best year; at least, I didn't have the year I wanted. Around the middle of the summer, I took several blows that nearly undid me, from stunning denials by insurance adjusters, to customers who backed out of agreements without so much as pretending to have a conscience. It all brought your humble narrator quite low, and had me noodling over quitting yet again. Surely, surely, my instinct told me, there must be something better.
I didn't quit. In fact, after losing so many battles in the middle of the season; after getting beat to hell; after falling to the bottom third of sales reps company wide; after all that, I say, it has all turned out all right somehow...somehow, again let me say, somehow, because don't know how or why it has all worked out all right. I just know it has. I've come from near the bottom to right around fourth place, with third in view. Now, I wanted to be number one my friends, but no, I apparently needed humility. Well, I don't know if I feel humble - in fact, I doubt that has anything to do with humility. I do know that I've been brought low, and then allowed to get back up.
In short, this is nothing new at all, nothing spectacular. Grace inscrutable and incalculable saved me once again from disaster. And that, dear reader, is nothing new either - so it is with all of you, with all that is but would cease to be without that act of being that is at once gratuitous and expressive of the nature of God as one who diffuses goodness, beauty and truth in the very act of making and sustaining all that is seen and unseen.
For me, the least important person in the whole story, all this is a gift - I get to earn a living, working honestly for my customers. There's nothing spectacular, nothing particularly interesting about it. What's more, it could be taken away at any moment. As I consider the careening stupidity of leaders elected and otherwise, which stupidity pales compared to my own, I realize more and more how powerless I am over anything out there. All I can do is show up every day and do my job. The wider world will have to take care of itself...or, rather, it is taken care of, so I needn't worry about it.
Peace out.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
a calm reflection on recent actions by the federal reserve...
You know, as I ponder the new Fed policy of 'Quantitative Easing', or QE3 for cuteness, many questions come to mind, like 'How much will the silverware fetch on the black market', and, 'Does cat *really* taste like chicken'. These are good times, my friends, good times...
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