tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50111932011-04-21T15:03:43.964-04:00Receiving Transmission...Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.comBlogger5141100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-88870246131256854012009-05-30T14:29:00.001-04:002009-05-30T14:30:46.478-04:00

New blog is located here. Sayonara Sublunar Harem!

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-62854874201594481482009-05-27T09:08:00.000-04:002009-05-27T09:09:50.897-04:00

A new blog is hopefully coming relatively soon, so stay tuned.

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-57371709007569976372009-04-30T16:56:00.001-04:002009-04-30T16:56:46.376-04:00

he whirled around to the right with his arms held up and his fingers curling, and as his shoulders turned I saw his face revealed, that pudgy face that seduced so many feminine droves, those porcine cheeks and equine lips, that ferocious suidine snout, and those musine eyes

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-87208179951817132242009-04-29T19:21:00.003-04:002009-04-29T19:35:52.547-04:00

I believe in my work. A week or two ago it terrified me. I was working frantically to finish everything, and it seemed like the entire project, this massive genreless epic--I can only insipidly call it antihistory--was a 747 made of a million different parts, each of varying size, that I had assembled in the dark over the course of several nice and lazy months. Now came the time to edit (seven

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-90841819383989009852009-04-25T11:29:00.001-04:002009-04-25T11:30:02.305-04:00

The things I said, I can't believe I said them; the things I did, I can't believe I did them.

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-3271278030332455042009-04-21T09:46:00.003-04:002009-04-21T09:50:30.313-04:00

Sample Here.Yet another firelit song seemingly recorded outside, under the stars, with the accompaniment of crickets--yet another song of truly inexhaustible richness and vastness that you can listen to over and over again as you spend the entire day pumping out page after page of writing.Some songs exhaust themselves. You listen to them straight through for a week, or even for a month, and then

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-56181888623915037102009-04-20T09:40:00.000-04:002009-04-20T09:41:10.980-04:00

No one believed Herodotus when he told the taleof the man condemned to die by drenching rageof fire, the man who begged the gods for rain,and got it. Lashed to the leaning pyre,choked by the twisting smoke blazing upfrom white flames blinding as the sun,he swore Apollo lifetime fealty andthe light blue sky burst open, cloudless,yet making rivers of roads and mountainsof steaming cataracts. In

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-90869244326879383372009-04-15T12:16:00.004-04:002009-04-15T12:21:28.190-04:00

...dulce ridentum Lalagen amabo,dulce loquentem.I'll still love Lalage, who sweetly laughs,and sweetly speaks.(You're lucky I don't burden you with the drafts.)

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-30668158372391816082009-04-15T10:34:00.004-04:002009-04-15T10:41:24.117-04:00

I could've sworn I smelled the sea today--the wind's shaking the rafters, opening doors and books, disheveling the budding boughs--it's quite strong. So is it hard to believe that the salted stench of seaweed, the rising pungence of brine-soaked grit drying out under the sun, has wafted its way across miles of Massachusetts--riding the backs of the violent winds--all the way out to me?

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-26784517937790814832009-04-10T13:00:00.006-04:002009-04-10T15:00:56.921-04:00

This!--the show, Faust, leading man, namesake of eponymous title, does not know his lines, the set is falling apart and the kinks in the lights need ironing out, our dress rehearsal didn't get to the third act, and the actors are devouring their pizza on the stage as the audience begins walking in with wide confused eyes--what to do? Angrily and with due frustration one Mephistophelean leading

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-43491842322804795992009-04-06T13:04:00.003-04:002009-04-06T13:07:52.535-04:00

Because tyrants have trampled it, because it's been so muddied and muddled that it's now come to mean the opposite of its original definition, I'll stop using the word freedom (despotism's whipping boy), and substitute in its stead the greener pastures of liberty.

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-25633789956896972512009-04-04T23:23:00.002-04:002009-04-04T23:30:16.913-04:00

That line of Iago's comes back to me after I'm done rehearsing every time--"I am not what I am." I know I'm a terrible actor, but to see other people move in and out of these fake personalities only seems to prove the point Borges makes in Everything and Nothing--that our identities are totally meaningless. I've been attempting to shift in and out of myself for Faust, and I've been attempting

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-82968921591518082852009-04-04T11:06:00.002-04:002009-04-04T11:09:47.164-04:00

I'm sticking this in my book without a citation, and placing it in quotation marks, which makes it look as if I'm quoting someone else--the context gives it more respect than I think it deserves. The poem is purposely silly and overdone, but if you change the tone and switch to the second person you might potentially woo a heart or two with it--and please, by all means, do so, since I wrote this

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-51663123272902880412009-04-03T08:52:00.000-04:002009-04-03T08:53:29.036-04:00

The path to heaven is paved with sex, talent, and scandal.

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-62451558289451524062009-03-30T12:12:00.002-04:002009-03-30T12:15:33.563-04:00

And I was like Demosthenes on that crescent beach beneath the fingernail moon, declaiming with my arms outspread, hard stones and gravel in my mouth, salty and soaked in Aegean brine—declaiming only to the roaring fuming waves, to the ocean, to myself, and to none other.(Since I'm now confined to editing, and since I find it harder not to write than to write, but have no time to develop a

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-23567715192796797352009-03-29T14:55:00.004-04:002009-03-29T17:49:26.572-04:00

The only thing holding me back from a live reading of my work is a dissatisfaction with audiences. At most, if I were lucky, I'd get an audience of one or two dozen friends, most of whom would either politely pretend to like what they hear, or like it only because they know me--objective liking or disliking of any kind is somewhat impossible under this circumstance. I would also have to deal

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-18791106791749243682009-03-28T20:28:00.003-04:002009-04-15T20:21:39.906-04:00

A hidden connection is stronger than an obvious one.--HeraclitusThere is nothing more visible than what is secret, and nothing more manifest than what is minute.--ConfuciusSimilar but not identical, both in translation, and both thousands of years and miles removed from me; I'm desperate to find the hidden and the secret, but I'm so unable to see such things that I might as well be blind--I see

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-11091181772559929402009-03-25T10:34:00.003-04:002009-03-25T10:48:41.876-04:00

I can only guess at how it happened, even though this is the second time such a thing has happened, that is to say: my book finished itself. I didn't write the ending, the book wrote the ending, it's as simple as that--all of yesterday's words and experiences poured themselves inside me, and I worried and worried, meanwhile, thinking that I was only halfway there, and that I'd never finish the

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-85335483206805297522009-03-21T16:37:00.003-04:002009-03-21T16:47:10.670-04:00

Salam Aleikum,Afel Bocoum.I never knew the world was full of chin-up bars; I've taken up tree-climbing to the music of Afel Bocoum, on whom I spent ten dollars today--the world is a playground when you're barefoot in shorts and a t-shirt, one may run and leap anywhere, as long as one watches for green chips of broken glass so eagerly waiting to bury themselves in soft human flesh. I'm climbing

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-72230340048883906982009-03-18T20:55:00.004-04:002009-03-18T21:47:50.548-04:00

I find it strange that my favorite music is usually either wordless or sung in any number of strange languages which I neither speak nor understand; I spend most of my days reading English or writing English, but it's rare for me to dance or even sing in English. I suppose song lyrics suffer from human stupidity more than other art forms involving words--and if you can't understand the words,

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-90612546530045851742009-03-14T08:21:00.004-04:002009-03-14T09:11:50.540-04:00

I must admit that I've been filling Pale Fire with lines, notes, and diagrams not just because of its brilliance, its beauty, its readability (and what is Nabokov but a Reader's Writer, a writer who endlessly rewards readers and re-readers? (this italicized term, hopefully my coinage, comes from acting and being directed, actor's directors, though I'm a terrible actor who is often lucky to find

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-66339437938911836612009-03-09T17:29:00.000-04:002009-03-09T17:30:07.255-04:00

Writers who knock adverbs haven't read Ulysses.

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-77326124634377641892009-03-07T18:56:00.006-05:002009-03-07T19:22:46.445-05:00

...the emperor Severus, returning from an eastern expedition, halted in Thrace, to celebrate, with military games, the birthday of his younger son, Geta. The country flocked in crowds to behold their sovereign, and a young barbarian of gigantic stature earnestly solicited, in his rude dialect, that he might be allowed to contend for the prize of wrestling. As the pride of discipline would have

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-26329671651356397612009-03-06T13:29:00.001-05:002009-03-06T13:31:07.538-05:00

Solemn, upon a peak in Darien.

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-42039875184261811312009-03-04T10:10:00.002-05:002009-03-04T10:12:45.660-05:00

I think you may count yourself lucky if you happen to possess four things: the exquisiteness of good coffee, the exquisiteness of good wine, the exquisiteness of good music, and the exquisiteness of good conversation.

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-44220352009359377272009-03-03T17:15:00.003-05:002009-03-03T17:19:37.019-05:00

Question: Quid est mare?Answer: Refugium in periculis. Question: Is it wrong to praise oneself?Answer: Only in front of others.*Question: Is it wrong to criticize oneself?Answer: Only when by oneself.*Don't discuss yourself, for you are bound to lose; if you belittle yourself, you are believed; if you praise yourself, you are disbelieved.--Montaigne

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-48900177581382240812009-02-28T22:24:00.003-05:002009-02-28T22:34:53.175-05:00

To estimate what a type of man is worth, one must calculate the price paid for his preservation--one must know the conditions of his existence.--Friedrich Nietzsche, Ecce Homo, tr. Kaufmann.See a person's “being”, observe his motive, notice his result. How can a person conceal his character?--Confucius

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-4358965672892794562009-02-28T11:45:00.001-05:002009-02-28T11:56:06.133-05:00

This device is not a computer so much as an entertainer of thoughts; I wonder, and I may quickly sate my wonders, and wonder more; knowledge gratifies curiosity, and engenders more curiosity, engenders further inquiries into the question of what does it mean to live?; but its speed also makes me impatient, not only with the machine itself, but also myself, and those around me--why can't you keep

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-17985890966317026982009-02-22T22:02:00.000-05:002009-02-22T22:04:00.221-05:00

The snows shall not survive this day—the powder will well to water, and water will flowrunning along in rivulets down the mountain-sides,pouring from the soaking rooftops, with eaves dripping,puddles widening, deepening, and darkeningto reflect the burning pillar of the rising sun—can you feel it in your veins? You hear the birdssinging to the star that soars triumphant over the battlefield,the

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-49584276616825970642009-02-20T08:36:00.003-05:002009-02-20T16:47:08.166-05:00

Why listen to the criticism of a fellow student, a fellow charge or initiate, who has set himorherself on a similar path to you?--why listen to students, when one may be catechized and criticized by the greatest gods who ever lived, simply by reading them? The question is rhetorical, and I form it that way because as a statement I would disagree with it, and argue instead that you should do your

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-80174361315361380462009-02-20T08:31:00.003-05:002009-02-20T08:35:45.708-05:00

Earlier in the week I found myself wondering who, if anyone, was the hero of Werner Herzog's Aguirre. I initially suspected Nature itself, the mountains and the forest and the river, all of whom ceaselessly seek to annihilate the film's human characters, excepting the Indians, of course--and where did they fit in to the picture? Indians from higher climes collapsed in droves when the environment

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-82173722974441727052009-02-17T16:10:00.003-05:002009-02-18T06:16:27.695-05:00

—but you do not understand, as I have said, that if I were to write like the reviled creative writer, who is not a writer at all, but a kind of glamorized diarist who takes pointless classes at expensive liberal arts schools so that he or she may gratify his or her narcissism by producing diary entries with the names changed, I would be nothing, I would be a drop in an ocean, a weed in a

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-27522146307571323642009-02-15T15:14:00.003-05:002009-02-15T15:22:29.095-05:00

I am editing more seriously than I have ever edited before; hour after hour disappears into this task, this task which is quicker on a computer but much less satisfying--one can change fifty things in a paragraph and forget that they were ever changed, for the page is always white, while the change is obvious when one scribbles black notes on the same identical page fifty times. You can also

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-29038848734968669762009-02-15T10:54:00.004-05:002009-02-15T11:04:10.963-05:00

Wisdom is lost on the ears of those who need to hear it the most; fools hear only foolishness, while the wise know the meanings of wise words from their own experience. I should not have been sober at the celebration last night; I truly felt mortal terror the moment people began to dance, I thought it was all too stupid--and there lies the problem, I thought. One must not think when one dances;

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-17798958047953940602009-02-13T18:06:00.003-05:002009-02-14T21:00:36.635-05:00

The Boston Globe(the following is an extended comment I decided to add to the fray...)What's so amusing is the assumption that everyone on campus supports this group. I go to Hampshire now, love Hampshire dearly, and like Ken Burns I believe Hampshire is "the most exciting place on earth", burning with intellectual passion from every conceivable direction--the pro-Israel group(s) seems to more

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-23936279217673457802009-02-11T09:24:00.002-05:002009-02-11T09:26:43.603-05:00

Something far more memorable than these poor pathetic forgetables—sparrows undoing your Gordian Knots with their steel threads in their thousand beaks,a nonameter slipping forever through the well-greased creases of your buttered grasp,references to lady’s pets, poet’s madness, or the scalding tearof The Most Russian King Lear (wellwellwell, actually he was Latvian)—only to confound and confuse

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-3662551869555375812009-02-05T06:29:00.010-05:002009-02-05T09:11:12.477-05:00

The Monkey of the InkpotWhat is Borges saying? What is the meaning of this?! Figure it out before you read on and dive in! Don't let my observations change yours!For the longest time I did not understand, my mind was dark as ink for the entirety of a miserable spring, and that was naturally when this brilliance was introduced to me--brilliance to which I was utterly blind, as eyeless men are

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-58023702026766193572009-02-04T08:43:00.003-05:002009-02-04T08:49:41.821-05:00

I will not say what has been said a thousand times about this song or the album Savane--I'll only say that the discovery of the translated lyrics, which may not even be the real lyrics at all, moved me more than I've been moved in a long time. I'd been listening to this song for years, dancing to this song for years, without knowing how perfectly the lyrics were speaking to me, singing in my

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-76169537222820245462009-02-03T23:15:00.001-05:002009-02-03T23:15:27.655-05:00

God make me a spider before I become such a man as one who does not do all in his power to make his dreams real.

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-63585352467058030392009-01-31T09:58:00.004-05:002009-01-31T11:09:26.686-05:00

One day Alexander the Great found the Gordian Knot, which was as thick as a tree, and impossible to untie; yet it was prophesied that a man could only rule the whole world if he untied the Gordian Knot, and so while his friends Krateros and Hephaistion looked on Alexander set about pulling at the metal strings, which hurt the tips of his fingers, first pressing grooves deep into the red skin,

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-414997151095548342009-01-26T10:09:00.001-05:002009-01-26T10:09:58.452-05:00

...is that Rome never fell.

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-6390284859666188762009-01-26T06:58:00.002-05:002009-01-26T07:40:50.834-05:00

In his clean room here at Hampshire College you'll find a bookshelf neatly packed with all the big names; the books are clean, shiny, and new. In this small bare Spartan room you'll also notice a bed, a nice computer, and an extremely expensive and prominently-displayed HDTV complete with various home entertainment accoutrements. When you notice the books you are impressed, and ask him about

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-30504000997816237632009-01-26T06:57:00.002-05:002009-01-26T06:58:23.368-05:00

Snarky: Never mind its actual meaning, use this word only if you want to sound stupid.

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-66434999498027231452009-01-25T11:04:00.005-05:002009-01-25T11:28:41.799-05:00

The time is ripe for a New Renaissance to pull our civilization free from the Little Dark Age of Postmodernism--Postmodernist philosophers cannot be called philosophers because they study and debate the endless minor intricacies of dull intellectualities that have no bearing on what it means to be human, pointlessly obsessing over a long-gone past, far closer to medieval scholastics locked deep

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-23168065458312083582009-01-24T14:46:00.003-05:002009-01-24T15:09:54.921-05:00

I was seduced at the Inauguration, I was there, and now that I've come back I've noticed that I can't look anywhere without seeing the face of our president. I don't exaggerate--it's unreal, like a dream, to live in America in the opening days of this presidency; and I cannot help but suppose that some form of sacred, holy knowledge was passed on to me by being there, and that one cannot truly

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-7563556246813595452009-01-17T08:28:00.002-05:002009-01-17T09:05:10.792-05:00

"While our nation is safer than it was seven years ago...Our economy is in shambles, and America cannot protect itself if it has no money, therefore our nation is in danger. The government's first responsibility is the protection of its citizens, and to protect its citizens it must regulate business, because if business is not regulated, people borrow and spend more than they have, money becomes

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-21805065334001090912009-01-16T12:02:00.002-05:002009-01-16T13:19:03.786-05:00

Virgil declared [Ripheus] the most just of the Trojans and adds to the report of his end the resigned ellipsis: "Dies aliter visum" [The gods ruled otherwise]. There is not another trace of him in all of literature. Perhaps Dante chose him [for elevation to heaven] as a symbol by virtue of his vagueness.--Jorges Luis Borges, The Simurgh and the EagleThen Ripheus follow`d, in th` unequal fight;

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-66871768765576459022009-01-16T07:04:00.006-05:002009-01-16T13:20:30.601-05:00

ROMA, ITALIA, July 29th 238 A.D, the young hope for the Empire, Marcus Antonius Gordianus (Gordian III), proclaimed sole Emperor over a beleaguered and exhausted nation, worn out from years of corruption, barbarism, and ignorance of the rule of law. Celebrations, jubilation, wild parties and widespread sacrifices to Jupiter Capitolinus, follow--the states of Rome, from Britannia to Arabia Felix,

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-78969394369508581302009-01-12T16:49:00.002-05:002009-01-12T17:42:35.067-05:00

Airy, a former hippy, still dreamy and spacy, she'd long since shorn her long blond hair, and kept it cropped like a Romulan. The skin on C's pretty face was drawn, wrinkled in a leathery way that still clung to the mindless exploits of a wasted youth, and red from the cold blasts of a dark Maine winter; her eyes were large, wide, and glassy. I doubt I ever saw her blink. She had real style;

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-33718171612366135922009-01-11T10:55:00.006-05:002009-01-11T11:26:45.372-05:00

...the girl of my dreams, but yeah, I could definitely go to the potentially disappointingly crappy Div III reading today, the guy's fiance gave me her number fifteen months ago and I never called her, that was a shit-ass thing to do, always call when you get their numbers, it's bad girl-karma, and I seem to have a lot of bad girl-karma, my girl isn't calling me, that probably explains it, but

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-54669362379055295712009-01-11T07:03:00.006-05:002009-01-11T07:25:21.967-05:00

Less is more, something you say to writers who do not know all the meanings (from dictionaries) and shades (from extensive reading) and textures (from visceral gut-reaction) and rhythms (from a love of old and antiquated poetry) of the words they assemble to entertain (and the best writers aim first and foremost to entertain). There are probably numerous other factors involved in the

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-32421185110581303872009-01-10T13:22:00.003-05:002009-01-17T09:07:57.590-05:00

"Americanness needs no apology; it’s the strength of our letters."--Liesl Schillinger, The Red Convertible, The New York Times Book ReviewOne or two hundred years ago I would have agreed; today, however, Americanness is our weakness. Modern American writers only seem to read each other, and work in complete ignorance of the real classics; Postmodernism is a Little Dark Age.

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-36123027092832242032009-01-10T11:53:00.006-05:002009-01-17T13:34:17.137-05:00

"Every so often, a grand thesis captures the world’s imagination, at least until it is swept away by events or by a newer, more plausible thesis. The latest one to do so, in policy think tanks, universities, foreign ministries, corporate boardrooms, editorial offices, and international conference centers, is that America’s time of global dominance is finished, and that new powers, such as China,

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-84922982110853671422009-01-09T08:50:00.002-05:002009-01-09T08:56:35.715-05:00

So often in my youth and childhoodwas the envenomed downfall of falling too easily in love,so easily and so long before I possessed the slightest inklingof the form and nature of my beloved’s soul. NowI have loved a certain lady for these fifteen-sixteen years,and this unrequited love, ignited to a great blaze far too soon,instantly, in fact,nearly consumed me, nearly burned all I’ve ever

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-15702759604041147712009-01-07T07:45:00.001-05:002009-01-07T07:45:53.507-05:00

You are fire lit by lightning,you are lightning, my heart blazeswhen you hit me, my veins burnwith a blinding firelightthat will never go out.

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-79328451945692261102009-01-05T10:58:00.001-05:002009-01-05T10:58:24.997-05:00

So and so built a castle for Wagner.Little did he knowthat each of Wagner’s operasis a castle in itself.

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-88480218653374322322009-01-03T08:12:00.002-05:002009-01-03T08:26:12.757-05:00

For the sake of thought, imagine if we suddenly discovered a second Earth in the orbit of Mars. This planet is everything Earth once was before the advent of civilization: lush, green, and blue. It's possible to colonize this world, but also extremely difficult--at the same time, who wouldn't want to go? Who wouldn't want to ditch the Old World for the New? New chances, new shots at utopia, a

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-50606655593123876742009-01-03T07:22:00.000-05:002009-01-03T07:23:06.472-05:00

To-day I made the ascent of the prettiest mountain in this region, which is not improperly called Day Mountain. I set out with the goal of reaching the top and beholding the world beneath me, for one can see the entirety of Mount Desert Island laid out like a vast map at the summit, but as I progressed upon the path I soon realized that I was not prepared for the wind and the cold and the

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-12484659669746025242009-01-03T06:48:00.002-05:002009-01-03T07:14:03.448-05:00

I've always believed that of the three Abrahamic Faiths, it's by far the most advanced; it's gotten a really bad rap in the last few centuries, but Muslims (in general) were ahead of everyone else for a thousand years in every way that I can think of--science, human rights, art and culture, you name it, the Muslims were the nerdy brown-noses of the Middle Ages, sucking up to the ancient Greeks,

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-48019280390941324842009-01-02T21:32:00.002-05:002009-01-03T07:24:23.957-05:00

Simultaneously, the planted charges erupted. Atomic blasts ballooned from the craters of Loa, Vesuvius, Shasta, Washington, Fujiyama, Etna, and many, many others. Arching higher and higher, up and outwards, towering clouds mushroomed, shot through with flashes of flame, waste and fission. Great winds raced tumultuously across the face of Earth, spreading tales of destruction...--L. Ron Hubbard,

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-16503437124525260832009-01-02T09:59:00.004-05:002009-01-02T21:26:40.938-05:00

If the Israelis and the Palestinians can't work out their problems both groups should be expelled from Israel / Palestine and replaced with brigade after brigade of smart, plucky, industrious, Mormons. Their architectural taste is honestly the most wretched that I have ever seen, but they'll do whatever you tell them as long as you add that it's god's will, and the kind of zeal these people have

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-3097665487375305762009-01-01T15:57:00.004-05:002009-01-01T18:57:31.917-05:00

I now possess about 5.7 hours of the music of Ali Farka Touré, half of which I just acquired, mostly illegally (he's dead--if he were alive I would pay for it), today. I could be slaving in the fields, in a coal mine; I could be on the rack, I could be inside Heorot at night waiting for Grendel to attack--I would be calm the whole time with a boddhisattvan smile on my face if I had Ali Farka

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-62609038685186875812009-01-01T12:12:00.006-05:002009-01-01T12:35:23.310-05:00

My love is unique,no one can rival her,for she is the most beautiful woman alive.Just by passing, she has stolen away my heart.--Ramesses II ("the great", also known as Ozymandias), speaking of his wife, Nefertari (or Naptera), which is translated by wikipedia (upon which the entirety of this post relies) as Beautiful Companion. If he actually wrote this I'd call him an antecedent of Sappho.

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-42303824691967982462008-12-31T11:10:00.005-05:002008-12-31T11:20:06.040-05:00

"Imagine that you receive a document that absolutely proves whether or not God exists. Upon reading the document and finding the truth, you must decide whether or not to share the proof with the world. Which would you do?"The problem with this question is that no such document can exist, because the ideal worship of God (or belief in any pantheon) is fundamentally based on faith, and not proof;

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-54422082214076145832008-12-31T11:10:00.004-05:002008-12-31T11:13:00.457-05:00

But the villa of the man who first adopted the pure Attic style, and through whom its light spread into his own land—the country house of Scipio—was always kept in the fashion of his fathers, showing no trace of the Hellenistic manner of life. Seneca paid a visit to Liternum near Cumæ, where the great man spent his last years, and found his house built of freestone; it must have given the effect

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-39350173323066991392008-12-29T13:36:00.004-05:002008-12-30T23:00:36.921-05:00

One of them seems to have been impregnating over a hundred women in a single orgiastic night; this is comparable to the famous Thirteenth Labor of Hercules, who was unfortunately able to seed only fifty “not-that-innocent” virgins over the course of a rather memorable evening.Myrmidon is the Greek word for Ant; the Latin equivalent is Formica.From the Hellenic version of the Flood Myth; this is

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-48707324597707043642008-12-28T22:10:00.001-05:002008-12-28T22:10:40.382-05:00

A morganatic relationship is a physically unequal one--when you see a guy and a girl, and the girl is beautiful, and the guy is ugly, that's morganaticism. The same is true in opposite situations, but far more rare: the mystery of why women are all kissy-kissy with ugly douchebags shall perhaps never be solved--most people chalk it up to confidence, but these sorts of fellows seem to have

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-50726991150895832302008-12-26T16:51:00.002-05:002008-12-26T17:01:16.363-05:00

From sometime in the eighth grade--"I really don't know how to say this, but if you were deformed and fatter than a hippo I would still love you every bit as much as I do now."Thankfully she never read that. I've been in love twice. The first girl's name, body, mind, and soul rhyme with the second's.

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-57031946326163201542008-12-23T20:26:00.001-05:002008-12-23T20:26:23.258-05:00

As with books, so with wine: what's oldest is often best.

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-12624446284867872772008-12-21T06:27:00.002-05:002008-12-21T06:40:34.392-05:00

In the pale moonlight beside the crashing surf I walked with a small thin man whose face I never saw; he jabbered his broken English at breakneck speed, gestured broadly with his huge long-fingered hands, grasped me lightly by the arm and pointed up at the bright stars in the hazy sky--this was a wizard, a specter, and though he laughed and agreed with everything that I told him (his inquiries

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-85644043805886165942008-12-20T19:04:00.003-05:002008-12-20T19:07:12.878-05:00

I only knew islands before, but nowI have found the golden land, and seea continent unfold so eternal before me;mountains quake and smoke with strength, forestssway and thrash, as vast and darkas the Sargasso Sea; birds with vibrant beakscry and wail and call, strange humming beeswith chirping songs and rainbow wingsattend the windy flowers, and drink the nectar deeplyfrom the pink-green throats

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-45883678932945068122008-12-20T18:34:00.000-05:002008-12-20T18:35:54.669-05:00

Though I think I slept, I knowI thought of herall the while.From when I began to dozeto when I struggled to wakeI thought of herall the while.

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-67169519088044091302008-12-20T18:08:00.002-05:002008-12-20T18:16:10.151-05:00

It seems to me that except for a handful of writers, such as Walt Whitman and Edgar Allan Poe, the greatest American authors are gnomes, midgets, dwarves, beside the greatest European novelists; the question must then be asked: why do our High Schools spend four years on pathetic weaklings like John Steinbeck and Arthur Miller when they could be tackling Flaubert, Tolstoy, and Borges? Could it

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-88162732486960196922008-12-18T20:17:00.004-05:002008-12-18T20:24:17.990-05:00

Toward the end of my trip a few days ago I stopped at a gas station, got out to fill up, and saw a lobsterman talking to a mechanic in his pickup truck. It was so cold you wouldn’t want to stay outside for more than two or three minutes, but here were two men talking just for the hell of it with white icicles on their beards, and this was Maine. It was near an abandoned thrift store beside some

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-8434510275214322062008-12-17T18:43:00.000-05:002008-12-17T18:44:23.464-05:00

...mirrors certainly adore her, I see them following her everywhere, getting in her way, chasing her out of buildings.

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-13480499570892648182008-12-13T10:25:00.001-05:002008-12-13T10:26:14.598-05:00

On the contrary, Francis Fukuyama, history is just getting started.

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-33983566553730806812008-12-13T08:26:00.007-05:002008-12-13T19:23:31.038-05:00

Aristotle writes in his Elenchoi (Refutations) that a wise man should possess two qualities, namely the following: that he not lie, and that he be able to counter that which is the stuff of lies.--Johannes Reuchlin (the man), Recommendation on Whether to Burn Jewish BooksSo far as I know, neither Reuchlin nor Aristotle say anything about how many enemies the so-called wise man makes when he

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-5059418657126857772008-12-12T17:38:00.003-05:002008-12-13T12:14:23.107-05:00

The nexus is a red ribbon of energytraversing the universe, a dangeroussnaking fire, destroying all it touches—but if you can get inside, you are givenall you desire. Loved ones long gone,loved ones long lost, all is there,all is as you think it should be.She, the eternal she, is in love with you nowas you were with her, and you mayspend eternity together in beauty and joy,young and free forever

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-73071902838812440162008-12-12T12:27:00.003-05:002008-12-12T17:41:40.867-05:00

86. For ΣαπφώIt’s said that the most difficult thingis to war with another nation, to conquerand subdue a foreign people; truly,this is difficult, but I know a greater challenge,perhaps unbearable, nearly certainly unwinnable,and that is to love someonewho does not love you.89.I imagine the futurethat we do not have.The sun glows in your smiling eyes,you laugh in the kitchen, I kiss your shoulder

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-35418218754563000272008-12-12T10:06:00.002-05:002008-12-12T11:31:38.330-05:00

Now I'm in Kuta with nothing better to do than read Don Quixote in my hotel room and send emails from an empty cafe which has free wireless internet.--From a letter to Jarrod Pasha, 01/23/08 11:24 AM in Bali"None among the captives was more charitable than Cervantes, nor behaved more honorably...to others he gave food and tried to diminish the ill-treatment they received from their masters."(1)

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-89241182482918171352008-12-12T06:00:00.001-05:002008-12-12T06:00:53.569-05:00

I’m sorry, I can’t helpthat you perfume yourself with poetry,I can’t help that the eye-shutting scentof such thriving life as none have ever knowndrifts in your wake like the lush aromaof a solarium packed with dripping flowerssmiling in the breeze and blooming to greetthe dawning of each day’s burning star; I can’t help that when I so much as glance your wayI see poems and epics and fairytales

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-53328218913114461422008-12-11T11:42:00.003-05:002008-12-11T12:08:16.580-05:00

Adventures, adventures...I've thought of this as a confusing fiasco far more than any kind of adventure, full of exhaustion and boredom and terror.--from a letter to Juliana Frick, January 21, 2008 6:26:24 PM in BaliA day or two before we left for Kuta (the Pisa of Bali) and never returned to Manggis (typical third-world shantytown with corrugated-iron roofs, wood and straw for walls; a grand

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-33067076997572721042008-12-11T11:20:00.004-05:002008-12-11T12:10:43.719-05:00

Despite the great friendliness of the people here, as well as the eagerness of the children, all I could think of was getting the hell out, that I was perched on the edge of a knife, and so when my mom told me that I could fly away at the end of this week rather than in four months I went to sleep, thought about it, woke up anxious and frightened that everything around me would collapse instantly

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-71781225705962509002008-12-10T23:02:00.000-05:002008-12-10T23:03:22.382-05:00

70.…whose eyes I feelI’ve never seenevery time I see them;…whose eyes I feelI’ve never metevery time I meet them.

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-15702084275938564512008-12-08T20:53:00.002-05:002008-12-08T20:58:08.765-05:00

A man was alternately swearing to himself in reaction to the intense winter winds but also gasping in awe at the beauty of Venus and Jupiter together in the night sky when he became so distracted that he failed to realize that he had strayed onto the road; a speeding tractor-trailer moving in excess of eighty miles per hour flattened him so thoroughly that he would have been unidentifiable had he

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-17483821736198680212008-12-08T07:28:00.000-05:002008-12-08T07:29:20.085-05:00

Father, Leader of Gods, Heforged my bronze from scrap-heaps,fired my bones in Vulcan’s kilnfed with the bright blood of the earth,and mallets once used to shatter the skulls of titanswelded, bashed, and crushed my rivets into plates;made a chest from a cuirass, wrists from gauntlets,legs from greaves, and a face from a golden helmet,hammered with lightning so I gleamed like a walking sun,like

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-42155361992234773082008-12-08T06:42:00.000-05:002008-12-08T06:43:48.061-05:00

73.I can neithertouch you, nor hold you,nor even look upon you,but if I were promised an afterlifeI would end all my days at once,so my ghost might never leave your side,since what is life, or death,but being near you?74.Like drops of water, my eyesbead in the lines of your hands.They roar like cambrian floodsthrough your purple canyons,they marvel at your marble porphyrand surge like raging

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-17265441515397011342008-12-05T19:27:00.001-05:002008-12-05T19:27:32.449-05:00

The fact that she exists, the factthat the sorcerous universe ofearth, stars, thought, water and thunder,forged a woman and a soul such as this, the fact,indeed, that I’m about to seethis living breathing singing act of god,is a source of life and love and death and sorrowendless as her beauty,endless as the sighs of the gales.

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-14351104796166698202008-12-04T08:27:00.004-05:002008-12-21T07:27:59.937-05:00

The first time I kissed a girl was while filming a zombie movie.It was two months ago, at an abandoned gas station, near the Coolidge Bridge. A film crew of ten people, including a camera, a boom, and a director, surrounded us; she wore a long red dress, was very cold and pale in the windy autumn morning, and had only met me a few days earlier. We were the two leads. We really didn't know each

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-56023667392596753472008-12-03T11:30:00.003-05:002008-12-05T09:35:08.184-05:00

Cosi orai; e quella, si lontanacome parea, sorrise e riguardommi;poi si torno, all'etterna fontana.--Dante, Paradiso, Canto XXXISo I cried, and she, so faraway, sheseemed, smiled and looked at meas she returned to the eternal fountain.

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-75170928530585048852008-12-03T06:09:00.002-05:002008-12-05T19:30:49.606-05:00

To whom it may concern,Though I apologize in advance if you should view my humble epistle as being the writings of a madwoman yet I have no choice but to reveal to you a curious incident which occurred only moments previous; I write to you now simply because I know of no other venue for curiosities & sundry phenomena of this sort. I am likewise aware of a prevalent skepticism endemic among the

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-18738056718400175742008-11-30T22:11:00.004-05:002008-12-01T12:17:30.252-05:00

Xoanon. You know the word?Two of them, greater than you’ve ever seen,stone monuments from the ancient days,from the decline of the Golden Agewhen crude statues were hewn from rock,smoothed down, smeared with paintand daubed with the blood of beasts and children,as the Carthaginians did in desperation. Tall, wide, broad,side by side, here the monuments stand,wide-armed, rounded feminines,with

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-74441011437790454642008-11-30T15:09:00.003-05:002008-12-03T06:09:13.565-05:00

She was glad that she was the one to die first because it meant that she would not have to spend the rest of her life alone waiting to join her husband; she confided this to me after he left her side, overcome with grief and unable to bear her departure to the nothingness or the afterlife or the state of being beyond our comprehension that awaits us after our bodies heave the last of our sighs.

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-46787035366458828492008-11-28T10:01:00.002-05:002008-11-28T10:32:45.386-05:00

Daughters of battle, resound!strike up a tunefor Epaminondassprawled spreadeagled on the field of Mantinea.Rise, nymphs of conquest,soar from the well-worked grassof singing Leuktra, float upward, freefrom the red soil, and the bones and platesthat stud your fields resounding,re-echoing, with aftermath’s silence.Blast the lands of Earth with trumpet-calls,shake walls to whirling dust, fling

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-25171396720636137982008-11-28T09:53:00.004-05:002008-12-01T12:27:52.749-05:00

Hast thou seenst the one they call Goatboy?Tall and lean like a maple sapling,a year or so older than I,frequenter of the Village Green,thrower of live blenders at annoying women,sprinkler of weeds upon Gringo's burritos(unsung adviser of culinary artists),son of a radioactive sensai,profound as Keanu Reeves;and only handsome, only respectablefor the lady I once saw near him.Has thou seenst this

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-83029968565465559912008-11-27T13:39:00.001-05:002008-11-27T13:39:45.713-05:00

It is bitter cold and I am warm at heart.

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-65046843664608131792008-11-26T08:30:00.006-05:002008-11-30T16:06:13.535-05:00

And I have come upon a New Kingdomruled by a fairer Queen than all eternity.Never have I seen such wonders before,this teeming, gleaming, Empire of Hair,listen to it glisten;seated beneath the heavenly caravanseraiwhere Quixotic souls ascend for drinking matcheswith Vikings looking for Valhalla.The towers are full of open gateswhere men have made trellisesfrom portcullises, so yellow lilies,

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-54060406218365332622008-11-26T07:43:00.001-05:002008-11-27T08:37:03.863-05:00

Health and Prosperity My Dear Lucius,I daresay I met the strangest man today. He would have looked out of place in a jeering crowd of thousands, and yet there was nothing obviously wrong with him; he was, in fact, exceedingly clean and prim. He wore a perfectly-laundered toga virilis, but seemed very uncomfortable with it—scratching at it, picking at it, checking to make sure it covered his whole

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-55708667935458492952008-11-18T19:00:00.003-05:002008-11-19T11:59:34.753-05:00

Ovidius Naso was the man.--Shakespeare, Loves Labour's Lost

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5011193.post-80827905081523297692008-11-18T10:00:00.003-05:002008-11-18T10:02:18.324-05:00

I have studied literature and history during the entirety of my stay at college; I would study literature and history during the entirety of my stay at grad school, and yet half the GRE is on math. This makes a great deal of sense.

Sublunarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01459014862752371943noreply@blogger.com1