Monday, March 18, 2024

Three poems …

… Lothlorien Poetry Journal: Three Poems by G. Emil Reutter.

Let’s hope …

 … they vote to uphold our Constitutional rights:   Supreme Court Hears Oral Argument in Pivotal NCLA Case Against Gov’t Social Media Censorship

A haiku …

The magnolia
Encased by an ice-storm like
Love unrequited.

Jennifer Knox

Q&A …

(18) John Hinckley Jr.'s Never Ending Quest - Autofiction.

I hapened to meet Moira this morning.

Once upon a time …

 …  Multimillion-selling smash hit transforms American music


Question of hope …

 … When winter’s glaze is lifted from the greens

Here’s a very nice selection of poems …

… Dial Tone- Brief Poems by Peter Vertacnik | Brief Poems. (Hat tip, Dave Lull.)

Something to look forward to …

… The Penguin Book of Greek & Latin Lyric Verse review: superb. (Hat tip, Dave Lull.)

Amazon says itks scheduled for release on March 28.

Something to think on …

Victory over fear is the first spiritual duty of man.
— Nikolai Berdyaev, born on this date in 1874

Appreciation …

… Paul Davis On Crime: A Look Back At The Late, Great Short Story Writer Ring Lardner.

RIP …

… Death of a great American pianist, 95 - Slippedisc

I got to know Byron and his wife (who is Gary Cooper’s daughter) some years ago.

A word for today ~

… Eupeptic | Word Genius,

Let us prat …

 … the Little Flower — Daily Scripture & Reflections.

Sunday, March 17, 2024

A poem …

 Nicodemus 


There was a man of the Pharisees, named Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews: the same came to Jesus by night, and said unto him, Rabbi, we know that thou art a teacher come from God: for no man can do these miracles that thou doest, except God be with him. 

Jesus answered and said unto him, Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.



I heard what he said about the law

Being made for man, not the other way

Around. And unrest laid hold of me. Sleep came

Only in snatches, leaving my nights swathed

In barren awareness, my mind a chamber

Black and empty, the darkness within echoing

The darkness without. The law, you see, had shaped 

My life, or so I dreamed. His words clutched

My heart,  brought it to life, making me

See how it was I had shaped the law to shield

Myself from mystery, reducing everything

To mere occasions, opportunities for sin

Or salvation. The law intends to codify

The good. Except the good is boundless as night

And sky, star glow and darkness, immeasurable

As the heart, that necessary instrument for navigating life.


Reason can sketch and guess and calculate,

Uncannily, from time to time, but always

Leaves out what counts, identifying things, as it does,

Only by accidents they have in common. For me,

The law was just a pin to stab a butterfly.

For him, it was a seed opening into stem

And branch, leaf and blossom, bearing fruit

For nourishing. Where I saw rogues and wantons,

He beheld eternal offspring. The law craves

Certainty. Only there is none. We see that

From the start, and run away, thinking to hide

And putter about in some attic of dissection

And surmise, devising artifacts demanding faith

As great as any simple taboo or command.


I went to see him. We met in secret, late at night,

Amid shadow and moonlight. One must be born

Again, he said, of water and the spirit. I did not

Understand. Nor was meant to. His was not a notion

To think upon and figure. His words made gestures,

Conjuring a feeling for being, the breathing in

And out of life, its buoyancy and flow, from trickle

To torrent, stillness and depth, wind and wave conjoined

In fragrance, flavor, and caress, vision and sound and sense.

We parted in silence. I had inquired. He had answered.

Nothing was left to say, nothing being all was left. Of me

At least. Bearing a lantern home near dawn — clouds 

Crowding the moon away  — I felt myself turn

Into a knowing absence, awareness and sensation

Intact, but no identity attached or needed. All was

Wordless, each flower wearing its own perfume,

The birds a chorus of arias, every color's every shade

Its very own light-burst, each and all breathing and flowing,

And what remained of me present only to serve as witness.



Come daylight, the common world faded back

And beckoned. But I was not quite there. Time,

Embracing space embracing me, had dwindled

To a point expanding outward in every direction.

Bereft of duration and position, I felt I needed

To assent to something, but could not think what, then

Sensed a stirring, like a drop of mist, or puff of wind,

Were wind softest whisper and mist merest sigh, 

Breathing an invitation to agree to be, consent

To happen, bear witness to being made. I watched 

Myself take place, as, when a child, my father sat me

Across his lap upon his horse, and galloped across

The meadow. I saw at once how I could live like that.

And I wanted to. The wanting proved an act of will.

I became complicit in my making, moving in time

With wind and wave, light and shade, the wayward tide.


And immediately the common world became again

My habitat, although it did not look the same, perhaps

Was not. For now I saw it from the angle of the breath

And flow of all besides.  I was riding a current I knew not

Whither. Life had become  a wonder and a terror. I cared not

Who it was I would become, or what would happen.

Intruding was the world of men, somehow askew,

Graceless and grotesque, each and all striving

For distinction, entangled in maneuvers of their own

Devising, ruffians at  play.n.  I was in attendance,

Made free in my obedience. As it happens, everything is

Perfectly in order. Only the performers are mostly

Out of step. The few who aren't stand in peril

From the rest. That is where the law comes in:

It catalogues the missteps. Those are all it knows.

His end was preordained. At his trial I spoke on his behalf,

Citing, naturally,  a point of law, only to be countered

With a quote from Scripture. Such a dying, what it does

To flesh and tells of life, bears little thinking on. 


I and the Arimithean arranged his burial. Two mornings

Later the tomb was empty and many swore thereafter

They had seen and spoken with him. I was not

Among those, needing no assurance. He imparted

To me myself that night. I felt loved simply

For being. Felt ashamed as well, at so often thwarting

My creation. I assented to obey his prompts. 

So have I done, and shall continue to.

Come what may, I will act as he directs.



I beg to differ …

 I just came upon the quite by Penelope Livel, a truly great writer (The Photograph is a masterpiece): “It seems to me that anyone whose library consists of a Kindle lying on a table is some sort of bloodless nerd.” Well, if  you have ripeing cataracts as I do and given that so many books these days are printed in type so small you need a magnifying glass to read them, well, the Kindle app is a Godesend.

Another goofy notion …

 … Marriage promotes ‘white supremacy’: George Mason professor.

Marriage has been around for an awfully long time just about everywhere. And it is good when kids are raised by two parents.

Lest we forget …

 … Four Years Ago Today – Launch Of “15 Days to Slow the Spread” (From Which The Nation Has Not Yet Recovered).

Having once been a medical editor, I had noted that two of the mRNA vaccines could cause cardiomyopathy. Well, I happen to in the top 1 percent of the population to die of a heart attack. So I chose to take a pass. But i was tested often, because Debbie was in and out of hospitals and rehabs, and I couldn’t visit unless I was tested. Always negative. I seem to blessed with a good immune system,

Beyond the orchard …

 … One can see what will trouble this sleep of mine…

A different celebration

 …  Something other than St. Patrick’s Day in Boston area.

More craziness …

 … British countryside can evoke ‘dark nationalist’ feelings in paintings, warns museum.

These people either need to stop thinking or learn how to do it properly.

Constable is one of favorite painters. His work has never stirred any nationalist feelings in me.

Something to think on …

The past is our ultimate privacy; we pile it up, year by year, decade by decade, it stows itself away, with its perverse random recall system.
— Penelope Lively, born on this date in 1933

Preview

… Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'Cat Street'.

A word for today …

… Adumbrate | Word Genius.

Let us pray …

 … with the Little Flower — Daily Scripture & Reflections..

Saturday, March 16, 2024

Worrisome, but true …

 (18) Sorting for Stupidity? - by Glenn Harlan Reynolds.

I worked in federal government back in the ‘70s. Maybe I’ll write about that sometime.

She has a tough job …

 … Meeting the lady with a stethoscope and laptop computer.

I fear he’s right …

… How Pseudo-Intellectualism Ruined Journalism.

This is appalling …

… Anti-Semitic Cartoonist Will Teach Fall Course at Penn, Ivy League School Announces.

He may be a cartoonist, but I wouldn’t call him funny. And if I were a Jewish donor to Penn, I would withdraw my support.

In case you wondered …

 … A St. Patrick’s Day question: What is the greatest novel ever written about Irish New York?

Time being neither right nor wrong

 … “I have been one acquainted with the night”

Lovely …

… both poetry and image: Zealotry of Guerin: Poetry and Fiction by Christopher Guerin: Rose In A Tumbler (Mondrian)

Want to get away?

 …  National Naval Aviation Museum, Pensacola, Florida.

Time for a poem ~

… Boris Dralyuk - THE CORTLAND REVIEW. (Hat tip, Dave Lull.)

Something to think on …

A proponent of the big bang theory, at least if he is an atheist, must believe that the matter of the universe came from nothing and by nothing
— Anthony Kenny, born on this date in 1931

A word for today …

… Epigraph - Word Daily.

Let us pray …

 … with the little flower —  Daily Scripture & Reflections.

Friday, March 15, 2024

It’s come to this …

… (18) The war on tomboys - by Tom Knighton - Tilting At Windmills.

I knew some tomboys when I was a kid. They were cool.

RIP …

… Dan Wakefield, Indiana Writer of All Trades, Dies at 91. (Hat tip, Dave Lull.)

P.G. Wodehouse

 


I'm not sure where literary comedy stands in the pecking order of Great Art, but having recently finished P.G. Wodehouse's Joy In The Morning, let me say that Wodehouse deserves a place on the pantheon. Joy is a fabulous book: it's funny, and swift, and light-hearted. But more than that, it's highly evolved: this isn't cheaper humor; it's comedy which is earned. Wodehouse was a superb stylist: his sentences are immaculate, and his dialogue, especially, achieves something great. There's a Shakespearean quality to his sense of character and plot -- which I mean as a compliment. Wodehouse is not derivative, but the symmetry of his work is reminiscent of Shakespeare's comedies: all of these interwoven and intersecting events gradually come together in a crescendo of fun and satisfaction. Of course the connections with Shakespeare imply a theatrical quality, and Joy could certainly be imagined as a play. Which again, is intended as a compliment: this novel straddles a number of genres -- not least theatre and even cinema. Joy In The Morning is, well, it's a joy to read. It's a timeless piece of work that remains funny, playful, and pitch perfect. My hat is off to Wodehouse.

Hmm …

… Anti-abortion protest sparks student anger | Varsity.

here’s a review I wrote that has some bearing on this:  Behind birth control, a complicated history.

They do not speak…

 … “They sit together on the porch…”

This is worrisome …

 … How Atrocities, Beheadings, and Carnage ‘Heal Muslim Hearts’

Merry notes …

 … Memory, hither come…

A strange tale, for sure …

 … Sacrifice and Obedience: Marilynne Robinson on the Timeless Tale of Abraham and Isaac. (Hat tip, Dave Lull.)

Abraham’s love for his son is precisely the measure of his obedience in acting on what he takes to be God’s will.

Something to think on …

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man is in fact the gestation of a soul.
— Richard Ellmann born on this date in 1918

The action of grace …

 … 

There the Story Stops: Flannery O’Connor’s Why Do the Heathen Rage? (Hat tip, Dave Lull.) 

Hooten Wilson suggests that for O’Connor, the artist’s “dilemma is how ‘to make corruption believable’ so that the reader understands the significance of grace.”

Appreciation …

… William Logan  On Anthony Hecht. (Hat tip, Dave Lull.)

In Hecht beauty can rarely be enjoyed for its own sake, because beneath beauty horror often lurks. He was a poet so pursued by the past that even access to the splendours of the world could not soothe, knowledge of good never drive out the terrors of existence. 

A word for today …

… Ambit | Word Genius.

Let us pray …

 … with the Little Flower —  Daily Scripture & Reflections.

Thursday, March 14, 2024

Anniversary …

 … DON’T RIP, KARL.

Curious …

 …  The Collapse of Cultural Christianity—And the Rise of Cultural Queerness.

I myself identify as a Vulcan.

Appalling …

 (18) University of Virginia Spends $20 Million On 235 DEI Employees, With Some Making $587,340 Per Year

Another poem …

 … Sarah Plimpton — Poem.

Seems like a good idea …

 UT Austin Brings Back the SAT After Scoreless Kids Underperform.

Cause for concern …

… Instapundit � Blog Archive � CRISIS BY DESIGN: America on verge of measles MAYHEM: Hundreds feared to be infected in Californ

Tradition …

 …  Celebrating St. Paddy’s Day at McGillin’s Olde Ale House: A historic Philadelphia tradition.

Important day …

 … 3.14 (etcetera).

A word for today …

… Felicitous | Word Genius.

Together …

 … One mind between them now…

News from ‘58 …

 … “Catch a Falling Star” becomes first Gold Record for RIAA.

Let us pray …

 … with the Little Flower —  Daily Scripture & Reflections.

Something to think on …

Once there were two brothers. One ran away to sea; the other was elected vice president of the United States. And nothing was heard of either of them again.
— Thomas R. Marshall, born on this date in 1854

Wednesday, March 13, 2024

RIP …

… Obituary: Father Ian Boyd, CSB. (Hat tip, Dave Lull.)

The comic Cagney …

… Paul Davis On Crime: A Look Back At James Cagney In 'Mr. Roberts' And 'One, Two, Three'.

Nobody’s perfect …

 (18) The Smartest Person in the World Wiffs - by John Droz jr..

Listen in …

 … A. M. Juster reads and discusses his poem “Vertigo” . (Hat tip, Dave Lull.)

Getting to know oneself …

… Writing My Autobiography by Joseph Epstein | Articles | First Things. (Hat tip, Dave Lull.)

Something to think on …

For poetry there exists neither large countries nor small. Its domain is in the heart of all men.
— Giogios Sefaris, born on this date in 1900

Congratulations to all those canines …

 … Celebrate the birthday of the U.S. Army K9 Corps!


Blogging note …

 I am currently back online. My tech guy is coming over to see what the problem.

Sounds more than a little partial to me …

… Obama's Man in China Now Beijing's Man in Washington.

Blogging note ...

.I have a serious computer problem. I won't be blogging again until it is fixed.

Tuesday, March 12, 2024

Monday, March 11, 2024

A most useful taxonomy …

 Three Axes of Political Conflict - by William F. Vallicella.

Our town …

… Paul Davis On Crime: The Kensington Initiative: A Veteran Narcotics Officer On Combating The Kensington Open-Air Drug Market..

I started life in North Philly, back when mostly factory workers like my family lived there. We used to shop on Kensington Avenue. There was great German restaurant we would eat at from time to time. Now it’s a shit hole.

A vun and a two …

 … “Wunnerful, wunnerful”

Rumors of decease …

 … The Patient on the Table: On the Somewhat Exaggerated Death of Poetry. (Hat tip, Dave Lull.)

Walther correctly credits Eliot with creating “an idiom that captured the disappearance” of this romantic worldview, but he does not correctly perceive why Eliot did so. Walther calls the romantic vision “pre-modern,” but as I have argued, it was indeed consummately modern. What did not seem modern was the sentimental and imaginative response of the romantics to the mechanistic reduction.

It’s come to this …

 … Armed citizen patrols start in Hartford amid violence concerns.

In Hartford no less.

A word for today …

… Hobbledehoy | Word Genius.

Let us pray …

… with the Little Flower — Daily Scripture & Reflections.

Something to think on …

It is little enough we know and the rest is darkness.
— Hendrik Willem van Loon, who died on this date in 1944

Sunday, March 10, 2024

Faith …

 … Better trust all, and be deceived…

Hmm…

 … “Thou shalt not murder"


Good to hear …

 … Irish Defeat Woke Referenda in Victory for Family Values.

I didn’t know this …

… Cracking The Big MysteryBehind The Bestseller Lists | Killzoneblog.com.

A touch of nostalgia …

Paul Davis On Crime: A Look Back At The Great South Philly Bars and Clubs From The 1970s.

They mean more than some people think …

… Essay #2: Words, Words, Words - by Andrew Klavan. (Hat tip, Dave Lull.)

The fact that spiritual perceptions differ in different times and places gives us good reason to be tolerant and to keep an open mind. But the idea that it negates the essential truths of the spirit is patently absurd.

Expert testimony …

… Paul Davis On Crime: My Q&A With Former Border Patrol Special Agent Vincent Vargas.

Faith …

 … Emergency preparedness.

On the move …

 … Art from Underground.

Appreciation …

… Book Review: A Word or Two Before I Go. (Hat tip, Dave Lull.)


“Comes a sense of winding down,” he begins his Author’s Note. One hopes, though, that he will continue to be riled up by ignorance, pretension, and silos of narrow self-interest, “In the age of the Internet,” he says, the so-called “sincere” narrative ‘I’ welcomes us without a qualm into the boudoir or bathroom, sharing thoughts that might have given Goebbels pause.”

Something to think on …

The short story is the art form that deals with the individual when there is no longer a society to absorb him, and when he is compelled to exist, as it were, by his own inner light.
— Frank O’Connor, who died on this date in 1966