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Subject:DISCLAIMER
Time:03:00 am
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Subject:Что станется в пространстве с топором?
Time:03:52 pm

Перечитывал поэму Коркии, которую очень любил в шестнадцать лет, обнаружил неожиданную параллель.

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Current Music:Martin Nonstatic - Nebulae Live At The Planetarium (Continuous Mix)
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Subject:Sunset
Time:09:08 pm
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Subject:Carlyle on blind deference to data (from "Chartism")
Time:03:04 pm

A witty Statesman said you might prove anything by figures. We have looked into various statistic works, Statistic-Society Reports, Poor-Law Reports, Reports and Pamphlets not a few, with a sedulous eye to this question of the Working Classes and their general condition in England; we grieve to say, with as good as no result whatever. Assertion swallows assertion; according to the old Proverb, 'as the statist thinks, the bell clinks!' Tables are like cobwebs, like the sieve of the Danaides; beautifully reticulated, orderly to look upon, but which will hold no conclusion. Tables are abstractions, and the object a most concrete one, so difficult to read the essence of. There are innumerable circumstances; and one circumstance left out may be the vital one on which all turned. Statistics is a science which ought to be honourable, the basis of many most important sciences; but it is not to be carried on by steam, this science, any more than others are; a wise head is requisite for carrying it on. Conclusive facts are inseparable from inconclusive except by a head that already understands and knows.

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Subject:From Stenbock's "Faust"
Time:11:11 am

I said, continuing my enquiry (which was both official and ecclesiastical), ‘You must tell me exactly about it. I know that you monks, observing the rule of silence, are not inaccurate when you do talk.’

‘Well,’ said the guest-master, ‘although our Order is generally silent, I have to do the talking for the whole community; but I will try and tell you as best I can, though, perhaps, one of the others might relate it better, being less accustomed to speak.’

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Subject:Week-night Service
Time:03:33 pm
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Subject:What the Thrush Said
Time:03:29 pm
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Subject:Most Sweet It Is With Unuplifted Eyes
Time:03:24 pm
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Subject:The Secret People
Time:05:56 pm

В связи с событиями в Великобритании один умный коллега ссылался на Киплинга, но другой, куда более умный коллега ссылался всё-таки на Честертона.

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Subject:QotD: Regarding the untimely demise of Jo Cox
Time:11:22 pm

kouzdra quoted Chesterton's immortal novel once again in connection with Jo Cox's murder, but he did it in Russian, while I'm really, really eager to savour the original.

“Oh, no,” answered Dorian, “I’ve heard all about it since, and as you’re rather the persecuted party, so to speak, it wouldn’t be fair not to tell you that I don’t agree much with Ivywood about all this. I disagree with him; or rather, to speak medically, he disagrees with me. He has, ever since I woke up after an oyster supper and found myself in the House of Commons with policemen calling out, ‘Who goes home?’”

“Indeed,” inquired Dalroy, drawing his red bushy eyebrows together. “Do the officials in Parliament say, ‘Who goes home?’”

“Yes,” answered Wimpole, indifferently, “it’s a part of some old custom in the days when Members of Parliament might be attacked in the street.”

“Well,” inquired Patrick, in a rational tone, “why aren’t they attacked in the street?”

There was a silence. “It is a holy mystery,” said the Captain at last. “But, ‘Who goes home?’– that is uncommonly good.”

— G. K. Chesterton, “The Flying Inn”

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Subject:City Poetry: "Eurydice" by Sue Hubbard
Time:02:15 pm

Sue Hubbard was commissioned to write this poem by the Arts Council and British Film Institute for the Waterloo underpass leading to the IMAX cinema in London.

Eurydice
by Sue Hubbard

        I am not afraid as I descend,
step by step, leaving behind the salt wind
blowing up the corrugated river,
        the damp city streets, their sodium glare
of rush-hour headlights pitted with pearls of rain;
for my eyes still reflect the half remembered moon.
        Already your face recedes beneath the station clock,
a damp smudge among the shadows
mirrored in the train's wet glass,
        will you forget me? Steel tracks lead you out
past cranes and crematoria,
boat yards and bike sheds, ruby shards
        of roman glass and wolf-bone mummified in mud,
the rows of curtained windows like eyelids
heavy with sleep, to the city's green edge.
        Now I stop my ears with wax, hold fast
the memory of the song you once whispered in my ear.
Its echoes tangle like briars in my thick hair.
        You turned to look.
Second fly past like birds.
My hands grow cold. I am ice and cloud.
        This path unravels.
Deep in hidden rooms filled with dust
and sour night-breath the lost city is sleeping.
        Above the hurt sky is weeping,
soaked nightingales have ceased to sing.
Dusk has come early. I am drowning in blue.
        I dream of a green garden
where the sun feathers my face
like your once eager kiss.
        Soon, soon I will climb
from this blackened earth
into the diffident light.
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Subject:Выписки: Alain de Botton on commercial vs high-minded societies
Time:05:53 pm

Почти не пишу в ЖЖ. Сейчас читаю новую пачку гениальных коротких книжечек от Алена де Боттона. Вот рассуждение из "The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work".

It was in the eighteenth century that economists and political theorists first became aware of the paradoxes and triumphs of commercial societies, which place trade, luxury and private fortunes at their centre whilst paying only lip-service to the pursuit of higher goals. From the beginning, observers of these societies have been transfixed by two of their most prominent features: their wealth and their spiritual decadence. Venice in her heyday was one such society, Holland another, eighteenth-century Britain a third. Most of the world now follows their example.

Their self-indulgence has consistently appalled a share of their most high-minded and morally ambitious members, who have railed against consumerism and instead honoured beauty and nature, art and fellowship. But the premises of a biscuit company are a fruitful place to recall that there has always been an insurmountable problem facing those countries that ignore the efficient production of chocolate biscuits and sternly dissuade their ablest citizens from spending their lives on the development of innovative marketing promotions: they have been poor, so poor as to be unable to guarantee political stability or take care of their most vulnerable citizens, whom they have lost to famines and epidemics. It is the high-minded countries that have let their members starve, whereas the self-centred and the childish ones have, off the back of their doughnuts and six thousand varieties of ice cream, had the resources to invest in maternity wards and cranial scanning machines.

Amsterdam was founded on the sale of raisins and flowers. The palaces of Venice were assembled from the profits of the carpet and spice trades. Sugar built Bristol. And yet despite their frequently amoral policies, their neglect of ideals and their selfish liberalism, commercial societies have been graced with well-laden shops and treasuries swollen enough to provide for the construction of temples and foundling hospitals.

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Subject:К одному наступающему вскоре событию
Time:01:42 am

The Birthnight
by Walter de la Mare

Dearest, it was a night
That in its darkness rocked Orion’s stars;
A sighing wind ran faintly white
Along the willows, and the cedar boughs
Laid their wide hands in stealthy peace across
The starry silence of their antique moss:
No sound save rushing air
Cold, yet all sweet with Spring,
And in thy mother’s arms, couched weeping there,
Thou, lovely thing.
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Subject:The Rolling English Road
Time:01:16 pm
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Subject:Holy Sonnet V vs Little Gidding mvmt. IV
Time:09:19 pm

Шурик, ты не находишь?

I am a little world made cunningly
    Of elements, and an angelic spright,
    But black sin hath betrayed to endless night
    My worlds both parts, and oh! both parts must die.
You, which beyond that heaven which was most high
    Have found new spheres and of new lands can write,
    Pour new seas in mine eyes, that so I might
    Drown my world with my weeping earnestly,
Or wash it, if it must be drowned no more:
    But oh! it must be burnt; alas the fire
    Of lust and envy burnt it heretofore,
    And made it fouler; Let their flames retire,
And burn me, O Lord, with a fiery zeal
    Of thee and thy house, which doth in eating heal.
The dove descending breaks the air
With flame of incandescent terror
Of which the tongues declare
The one dischage from sin and error.
The only hope, or else despair
    Lies in the choice of pyre of pyre —
    To be redeemed from fire by fire.
Who then devised the torment? Love.
Love is the unfamiliar Name
Behind the hands that wove
The intolerable shirt of flame
Which human power cannot remove.
    We only live, only suspire
    Consumed by either fire or fire.

Два великих христианских поэта разговаривают через расстояние в 330 лет.

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Subject:Love in a Life
Time:07:20 pm
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Subject:The Great London Tube Strike of 2014
Time:12:20 pm
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Subject:Алексей Любжин о невозможности реформирования российской школы
Time:04:40 pm
Originally posted by philtrius at Въ двухъ словахъ буквально —
о невозможности реформъ.
Спроектировать работоспособный школьный механизмъ можно. Это даже не такъ и трудно, если есть возможность не считаться съ общественнымъ мнѣнiемъ.
Труднѣе найти подъ него ресурсы. Напр., я уже писалъ о томъ, что обучающее обученiе у насъ замѣнено контролирующимъ. Преподаватели, заинтересованные въ репетиторскихъ заработкахъ, стали вести себя на урокахъ такъ, чтобы безъ дополнительныхъ занятiй усвоить матерiалъ было невозможно. Это изначльно было вынужденной реакцiей на нищету, но потомъ они вошли въ вкусъ. И теперь заставить ихъ работать… не знаю, какъ это можно сдѣлать.
Дополнительно къ этому: бой въ Крыму, все въ дыму. Когда у дѣтишекъ съ 5-го класса репетиторъ, извнѣ чрезвычайно трудно понять, чей трудъ вы оцѣниваете — учителя, ученика, репетитора. Картина размазана настолько, что понять качество процессовъ стоитъ значительныхъ аналитическихъ усилiй. Надо ли говорить, что надежда въ этомъ отношенiи на методистовъ еще менѣе оправданна, чѣмъ надежда на наличный педагогическiй корпусъ?
Петру было проще. Ему приходилось только начинать — почти съ нуля.
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Subject:January
Time:11:46 pm
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Subject:Holidays
Time:10:53 pm
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Subject:The One True Solace
Time:03:17 pm
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Subject:Выписки: The Diary of a Country Parson
Time:12:52 pm

Чтобы не потерялось. Thanks to dmtr for sharing.

1778 April 15... Brewed a vessel of strong Beer today. My two large Piggs, by drinking some Beer grounds taking out of my Barrels today, got so amazingly drunk, that they were not able to stand and appeared like dead things almost... I never saw Piggs so drunk in my life...

April 16. My 2 Piggs are still unable to walk yet, but they are better than they were yesterday. They tumble about the yard and can by no means stand steady yet. In the afternoon my 2 Piggs were tolerably sober.

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Subject:The Song of the Sixth Companion
Time:03:11 pm
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Subject:A Dirge
Time:05:24 pm

Гы!

A Dirge
by John Webster

Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren,
Since o'er shady groves they hover,
And with leaves and flowers do cover
The friendless bodies of unburied men.
Call unto his funeral dole
The ant, the field-mouse, and the mole,
To rear him hillocks that shall keep him warm,
And (when gay tombs are robb'd) sustain no harm;
But keep the wolf far thence, that's foe to men,
For with his nails he'll dig them up again.
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Subject:Выписки: The Merchant of Venice, трагедия современного человека
Time:08:28 pm

Сидя в пресловутом Глобусе на представлении "The Merchant of Venice", я первые десять минут самонадеянно пытался обойтись одними ушами, но потом послушно начал скользить глазами по заранее заготовленному в телефоне тексту вослед тому, что произносили на сцене актёры. О сходствах и различиях "Венецианского купца" и "Мальтийского жида" я расскажу как-нибудь отдельно (Марло круче как драматург, Шекспир как философ). О смелых находках режиссёра готов рассказать за пивом. Сейчас же я хочу выписать монолог принца Арагонского, произносимый в момент выбора им серебряного ларца, потому что вижу, что в нём плотно упаковано множество базовых мотиваций т.н. современного т.н. свободного человека, каковой типаж видимо ещё не был однозначно превалирующим в елизаветинской Англии, но явно был уже достаточно хорошо известным. Это не про гордыню как таковую и даже не про столь часто вспоминаемый в дискуссиях с участием mbravo sense of entitlement, это про тот самый "здоровый" индивидуализм, предпочтение меритократии и якобы высокую степень осознанности, которые не худшие из нас так часто культивируют в себе. Я специально не выписываю слова, произносимые принцем после открытия ларца — доставьте себе удовольствие, найдите и прочтите их сами. Enjoy.

And so haue I addrest me, fortune now
To my hearts hope: gold, siluer, and base lead.
Who chooseth me must giue and hazard all he hath.
You shall looke fairer ere I giue or hazard.
What saies the golden chest, ha, let me see.
Who chooseth me, shall gaine what many men desire:
What many men desire, that many may be meant
By the foole multitude that choose by show,
Not learning more then the fond eye doth teach,
Which pries not to th' interior, but like the Martlet
Builds in the weather on the outward wall,
Euen in the force and rode of casualtie.
I will not choose what many men desire,
Because I will not iumpe with common spirits,
And ranke me with the barbarous multitudes.
Why then to thee thou Siluer treasure house,
Tell me once more, what title thou doost beare;
Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserues:
And well said too; for who shall goe about
To cosen Fortune, and be honourable
Without the stampe of merrit, let none presume
To weare an vndeserued dignitie:
O that estates, degrees, and offices,
Were not deriu'd corruptly, and that cleare honour
Were purchast by the merrit of the wearer;
How many then should couer that stand bare?
How many be commanded that command?
How much low pleasantry would then be gleaned
From the true seede of honor? And how much honor
Pickt from the chaffe and ruine of the times,
To be new varnisht: Well, but to my choise.
Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserues.
I will assume desert; giue me a key for this,
And instantly vnlocke my fortunes here.
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Subject:Выписки, The Merchant of Venice, финансовые метафоры
Time:06:30 pm

Продолжаю обожать финансовые метафоры в любовных дискурсах. Елизаветинцы, суки, умели, не хуже последующих метафизиков. Здесь правда в чисто финансовый conceit вплетается не пойми что, но очень человеческое.

Portia: You see my Lord Bassiano where I stand,
Such as I am; though for my selfe alone
I would not be ambitious in my wish,
To wish my selfe much better, yet for you,
I would be trebled twenty times my selfe,
A thousand times more faire, ten thousand times
More rich, that onely to stand high in your account,
I might in vertues, beauties, liuings, friends,
Exceed account: but the full summe of me
Is sum of nothing: which to terme in grosse,
Is an vnlessoned girle, vnschool'd, vnpractiz'd,
Happy in this, she is not yet so old
But she may learne: happier then this,
Shee is not bred so dull but she can learne;
Happiest of all, is that her gentle spirit
Commits it selfe to yours to be directed,
As from her Lord, her Gouernour, her King.
My selfe, and what is mine, to you and yours
Is now conuerted.
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Subject:Переориентация
Time:06:25 pm

Одна из важных тем в работе над собой за последний год — снизить личную значимость для меня St Mary Woolnoth и повысить значимость St Magnus the Martyr.

“This music crept by me upon the waters”	 
And along the Strand, up Queen Victoria Street.	 
O City City, I can sometimes hear	 
Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street,
The pleasant whining of a mandoline	 
And a clatter and a chatter from within	 
Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls	 
Of Magnus Martyr hold	 
Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold.
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Subject:Выписки: Venkatesh Rao on moral minimalism
Time:06:05 pm

TWIMC: "Be Slightly Evil" Венкатеша Рао пока что вызывает ощущения примерно в десять раз сильнее, чем его же "Tempo". Огромное спасибо порекомендовавшим Венкатеша.

[The above] ideas overall add up to a pragmatic truth-driven philosophy of moral minimalism. Every new “true” thing I learn seems to shrink the domain where I can hold useful moral opinions. There is no point having a moral opinion about the law of gravity. So truth is also about increasing moral minimalism. As you learn more, you should have less need for moral opinions. Or as the French-Swiss novelist Madame de Staël once said, “When you understand everything, you can forgive everything.” We may never reach that asymptotic state within our human lifespans, but every little bit of pointless moral “responsibility” you can shrug off helps.

TWIMC: Cf. тред в одной мёртвой социальной сети на тему HFA.

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Subject:When your left arm twitches, by Frank O'Hara
Time:09:46 am
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Subject:Fw: Методика преподавания / популяризация
Time:11:05 am

Originally posted by flying_bear at Методика преподавания/популяризация

Я как-то вот вырос в убеждении (никто из учителей битым словом так не говорил, но это, кажется, подразумевалось), что артистизм в учебных лекциях и в докладах на семинарах и конференциях - дело опасное и подозрительное. Из этого потом уже сам сделал вывод о нежелательности слишком красивых презентаций, особенно с анимациями. Лучшие лекторы, когда учился, были (при исполнении) поразительными занудами.

Рама не должна быть большим произведением искусства, чем картина. Или это плохая картина. По-моему, так. К тому же, если тема лекции - критические экспоненты в размерности четыре минус эпсилон, естественно исходить из того, что слушатели хотят узнать о критических экспонентах в размерности четыре минус эпсилон, а не о богатстве внутреннего мира и многосторонних дарованиях профессора NN (лектора).
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Subject:Сказанїе ѡ трїехъ свинїѧхъ
Time:04:30 pm

Выпишу в ЖЖ, чтобы удобнее было потом искать, ибо в Фейсбуке поиск не работает. Источник.

Сказанїе ѡ трїехъ свинїѧхъ

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Subject:Against Self-Criticism
Time:09:37 pm

Выпишу тут из недавного LRB на одну свежую тему.

Lacan said that there was surely something ironic about Christ’s injunction to love thy neighbour as thyself – because actually, of course, people hate themselves. Or you could say that, given the way people treat one another, perhaps they had always loved their neighbours in the way they loved themselves: that is, with a good deal of cruelty and disregard. ‘After all,’ Lacan writes, ‘the people who followed Christ were not so brilliant.’ Lacan is here implicitly comparing Christ with Freud, many of whose followers in Lacan’s view had betrayed Freud’s vision by reading him in the wrong way. Lacan could be understood to be saying that, from a Freudian point of view, Christ’s story about love was a cover story, a repression of and a self-cure for ambivalence. In Freud’s vision we are, above all, ambivalent animals: wherever we hate we love, wherever we love we hate. If someone can satisfy us, they can frustrate us; and if someone can frustrate us we always believe they can satisfy us. And who frustrates us more than ourselves?

<…>

We are never as good as we should be; and neither, it seems, are other people. A life without a so-called critical faculty would seem an idiocy: what are we, after all, but our powers of discrimination, our taste, the violence of our preferences? Self-criticism, and the self as critical, are essential to our sense, our picture, of our so-called selves. Nothing makes us more critical – more suspicious or appalled or even mildly amused – than the suggestion that we should drop all this relentless criticism, that we should be less impressed by it and start really loving ourselves.

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Subject:Or lesser breeds without the Law
Time:04:17 pm
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Subject:Erat hora
Time:10:46 pm

Извините уж, у меня передоз Паунда.

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Subject:Δώρια
Time:05:21 pm
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Subject:E ciascuna di lor fosse contenta
Time:01:45 pm

Ну чо, на сорок третьем году жизни съездил-таки в Венецию.

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Subject:QotD: Caxton and Johnson on Lunary Nature of English (and on Eggs)
Time:07:17 pm

From the Preface to William Caxton's Eneydos, 1490:

For we Englysshe men ben borne under the domynacyon of the mone, whiche is never stedfaste but ever waverynge, wexynge one season and waneth and dyscreaseth another season. And that comyn Englysshe that is spoken in one shyre varyeth from a-nother, in so moche that in my dayes happened that certayn marchauntes were in a ship in Tamyse for to have sayled over the see into Zelande, and, for lacke of wynde, thei taryed atte Forlond, and wente to lande for to refreshe them. And one of theym named Sheffelde, a mercer, cam in to an hows and axed for mete and specyally he axyd after eggys, and the goode wyf answerde that she could speke no Frenshe. And the marchaunt was angry, for he also coude speke no Frenshe, but wolde have hadde egges; and she understode hym not. And thenne at laste a-nother sayd that he wolde have eyren. Then the good wyf sayd that she understod hym wel. Loo, what sholde a man in thyse dayes now wryte, egges, or eyren? Certaynly it is hard to playse every man, by-cause of dyversite and chaunge of langage.

From the Preface to Samuel Johnson's A Dictionary of the English Language, 1755:

When we see men grow old and die at a certain time one after another, from century to century, we laugh at the elixir that promises to prolong life to a thousand years; and with equal justice may the lexicographer be derided, who being able to produce no example of a nation that has preserved their words and phrases from mutability, shall imagine that his dictionary can embalm his language, and secure it from corruption and decay, that it is in his power to change sublunary nature, or clear the world at once from folly, vanity, and affectation.

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Subject:Выписки: "Weirdos' Pilgrimage", конец американской ветки
Time:12:01 am
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Subject:Выписки: Old Poe on body and soul
Time:11:29 am

From "Weirdos' Pilgrimage" again.

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Subject:"Best of Year 2014" Nominations
Time:10:23 pm
Piggymouse Best of Year 2014Collapse )
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Current Music:Nate Hall / Poison Snake - Heat and Sway
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Subject:Остроактуальная цитата
Time:09:52 pm

Some malady is coming upon us. We wait, we wait,
And the saints and martyrs wait, for those who shall be martyrs and saints.
Destiny waits in the hand of God, shaping the still unshapen:
I have seen these things in a shaft of sunlight.
Destiny waits in the hand of God, not in the hands of statesmen
Who do, some well, some ill, planning and guessing,
Having their aims which turn in their hands in the pattern of time.
Come, happy December, who shall observe you, who shall preserve you?
Shall the Son of Man be born again in the litter of scorn?
For us, the poor, there is no action,
But only to wait and to witness.

Связность: [1], [2]

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Current Music:Jean Michel Jarre - Equinoxe Part 7
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Subject:For sure then I should grow to fruit or shade
Time:02:51 pm

Совершенно удивительна способность метафизиков разговаривать с Господом и с любимой женщиной практически одним языком.

Как по другому поводу высказывался наш любимый Clerkenwell Kid, "you used to be a god to me, but, God help me, what can I do?"

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Subject:I shall be good as new
Time:01:34 am

Давно я что-то в ЖЖ ничего не выписывал. Пока в Штатах сидел, не до того было. Ну вот вам женщина Сильвия. Я так думаю, из женщин-поэтов XX века она главная, главнее нет. Не только в пределах английского языка. И, в отличие от Анечки Секстон, Сильвия больше поэт, чем женщина.

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Current Music:DJ Rupture feat. Sindhu Zagoren - I Wish I Was A Mole In The Ground
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Subject:QotD: Greil Marcus on "A Mole In The Ground"
Time:11:55 am

Greil Marcus in his book "Lipstick Traces: A Secret History of the 20th Century" reflects on the traditional American ballad "I Wish I Was A Mole In The Ground" and its rendering by Bascom Lamar Lunsford:

Now what the singer wants is obvious, and almost impossible to comprehend. He wants to be delivered from his life and to be changed into a creature insignificant and despised. He wants to see nothing and to be seen by no-one. He wants to destroy the world and to survive it. That’s all he wants. The performance is quiet, steady, and the quiet lets you in… You can imagine what it would be like to want what the singer wants. It is an almost impossible negation, at the edge of pure nihilism, a demand to prove that the world is nothing, a demand to be next to nothing and yet it is comforting.

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Subject:Выписки: McCloskey, Bourgeois Dignity (с дружеским приветом теоретикам Собора)
Time:12:17 pm

Ещё немного случайных выписок из тёти Макклоски.

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Subject:Выписки: Dedication of Dowson's first book
Time:06:51 pm

С июня хотел выписать. Посвящение той самой дочке понаехавшего владельца точки дешёвого общепита (think Turkish-owned sleazy kebab joint), в которую Доусон имел несчастье влюбиться и которая позже совершенно благоразумно вышла замуж за соседа-парикмахера, а также часто цитируемое, одно из самых у Доусона популярных, первое стихотворение сборника.

Этакий памятник мужской неадекватности и женской практичности.

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Subject:Выписки: McCloskey, Bourgeois Dignity
Time:11:52 am

Наконец-то (год лежало в очереди после прочтения гениальной "The Rhetoric of Economics") взялся читать "Bourgeois Dignity" нашей любимой товарища McCloskey. Товарищ Дейрдра как обычно прекрасная, повыписываю, чтобы не портить пересказом своими словами.

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Subject:An excerpt from Chapter 9 of "Pfitz: A Novel"
Time:05:10 pm

Выписка из Пфитца. Скорее для себя и узкого круга, вослед определённым мыслям и разговорам. Разговоры были недавно, а сегодня с утра я дошёл в Пфитце до девятой главы и там мироздание решило меня удивить.

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Subject:The City in the Sea
Time:04:55 pm
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Subject:Better than love or sleep
Time:09:07 pm
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