Bloglet, the gentleman's mock turtle soup -- Moss made it sweeter than myrrh ash and dhoup
"For nearly a century, scientists argued about whether Maxwell's Demon could really defeat entropy. Finally, Maxwell's Demon was undone by the argument of French physicist, Leon Brillouin, in the 1950s. The argument? Simply that Maxwell's Demon would have to work too hard. Maxwell's Demon was put to rest. But wait! He's back! Only he's not a demon anymore. Now he's a maniac! And he's trying harder than ever to keep those molecules flowing in the right direction. Won't you please help?"
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03:14:36 AM,Friday 18 May 2001
Maybe if I just bought Mr. Franks one of these, I wouldn't hafta write this damn paper...
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02:28:18 AM,Friday 18 May 2001
Part one, in which Doris gets her oats.
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01:29:37 AM,Friday 18 May 2001
Hurra for 17de Mai! Og Henrik Wergeland som instifta dagen!
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09:35:36 PM,Thursday 17 May 2001
Just a li'l bit o' bel canto can make my parents happy. Th' sweet thangs.
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05:16:29 PM,Thursday 17 May 2001
Last night we had 8 people for storytellers. This is grand. Also: Graham Crackers, Saltzburg Mocha cookies, Don Quixote cookies, Kiwi-Strawberry Newtons, chocolate milk, whole milk, soy milk (but nobody drank the soymilk. the vegans didn't show up for once, grr.) They read Masquerade (the one that Kerne read. glorious both times, naturally.), Pippi Longstocking, The Pie and the Patty-Pan (again!! oy, we gotta get some more books for next year...) -- there was a big year-end party up in the pool room, too noisy, and lots of drunk people coming down every few minutes and swearing at us. The parents were shocked. They've stopped bugging me about being antisocial and not going to parties. Also, real good Indian food last night, served by two Sieks. Good music, too. One of them told us that the turban was so that no one could disavow his religion to avoid beheading, and that he is not a Buddhist, who turns the other cheek -- his religion says, if somebody slaps you, punch him -- but he wears a brass bracelet on his right wrist to remind him never to use that arm to harm an innocent. Lamb kabobs for breakfast, and eggplant and tomato and spinach.
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11:25:04 AM,Thursday 17 May 2001
mi tradi quell'alma ingrata...
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11:17:32 AM,Thursday 17 May 2001
See, I like pompous asses, but I dislike arrogant jerks. No accounting for taste...
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11:15:57 AM,Thursday 17 May 2001
"It's hot today. I'm going downtown with my dad to get cookies and milk for storytelling tonight. my mom and dad loved the concert. my mom hasn't been here for 24 hours and she's already driving me nuts. but I love her anyway. Ok. I forgive her 'cause she loves me so much. but now I know why I didn't want to live at home and go to U. of M. Right?"
dictated for me by my mother in reply to the question 'what should I put on my bloglet?'
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03:46:28 PM,Wednesday 16 May 2001
Don't write a catalogue of your faults. I did that once. It was stupid. It was an attempt to atone for excusable things via guilt, which is always stupid. It was self-pitying, and annoyingly submissive, and not even all that accurate -- I mean, I think I do know myself fairly well, including my faults, but it distorts everything to pull them out of their place and enumerate them, as if you're adding up demerits... it's not useful. If you have a real idea of your faults, keep them in mind; acknowledge when and where they have applied and do apply; if you've done something specific that should be fixed, fix it. Don't harp on it. It took me a while to figure this out, but it really does no good, and I think it's ugly... it's asking for acceptance and forgiveness, which are important, and you deserve them, but by making a trade for it of hanging out your worser self is a sloppy one. For one thing -- when I made this list I asked for commentary -- you'll feel insulted when someone agrees with you on the list. You might look hangdog, but if they say 'it's ok, I love you regardless', you'll feel cheated, as if your faults ain't good enough for 'em, and if they say 'y'know, you're right... you are...', you'll feel like they're kicking you when you're down. trust me. Keep yourself whole. Don't put pieces of yourself down to stare at. It's not right.
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06:30:17 PM,Tuesday 15 May 2001
Are you sure morbidity is a deadly virtue?
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06:17:52 PM,Tuesday 15 May 2001
Dirk bridled at this.
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12:15:12 PM,Tuesday 15 May 2001
I'm cooking over a Mantis Pavlova that I overcooked before...
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02:53:13 AM,Tuesday 15 May 2001
for some reason, I woulda figured Camille Paglia would just ~love~ to go all bitchy on Cecilia Bartoli, like everyone else does {sigh}... I mean, she's peppy and Italian and cute and not a friggin' cent postmodern... but instead she shuts up and lets some sweet sympathetic opera queen say what's _good_ about her. When was the last time you heard that happen? It's a miracle. (`8
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12:48:59 AM,Monday 14 May 2001
"Maxwell didn't have a switch... he used the drum solo from Innagaddadavida."
"Kingdoms crumble, mountains wash into the sea, love fades, but Mathematical Formalism will always be there for you."
-- Mr. Franks
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12:23:01 AM,Monday 14 May 2001
Chlorophyll Sollie is my petunia,
Chlorophyll Sollie is tweetsy-tweet
Chlorophyll Sollie is a peppermint pie...
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03:17:03 PM,Sunday 13 May 2001
Reading his Chee
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08:59:30 PM,Saturday 12 May 2001
This morning, at 6:30, I woke up to a tribe of sophomores bellowing "RE-A-LI-TY, RE-A-LI-TY, RE-A-LI-TY!" for about five minutes solid. When I walk outside, the place is covered with cotton fluff and balloons (I mean, lots and lots and lots of balloons) and floating candle-clouds in the fishpond and particle-board clouds on the buildings and sky-blue plastic over the walls. There's quotes from Aristophanes in sidewalk chalk everywhere, and up on the grassy knoll is a huge papier mache hot air balloon with a huge papier mache Dopey-Looking Philosopher [tm] sitting in it. All this is very promising.
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07:23:49 PM,Friday 11 May 2001
so, for the last french class, mr. stickney says we all hafta bring in our favorite poems to recite. what should I bring? I'm almost tempted to bring in 'Nature's Cook' (`; well, because we just had a big ol' discussion about The Ridiculous and the Damaging Effects of Comedy and that dumb essay by Rousseau about The Misanthrope. An' I almost wanna talk about how something can be both completely laughable and still somehow true or worthy at the same time... like, last semester, we had to write speeches for french class, and most people wrote funny speeches, but two of us wrote parodies -- totally independent of each other -- an' what were they parodies of? The Big Dumb Sicilian Ox (aka St. Thomas Aquinas). It turns out we both love Thomas to bits -- I'm thinking of doing my senior essay on him, if I don't do Freud or Leibniz -- but he's so eminently easy to mock. Hey, could one of you tell that joke about The Apostle says and literal and figurative meanings? I'm afraid I wouldn't get it right. Anyway... but the poem for French class doesn't have to be funny. I just ain't sure which one it should be. Recommendations, all!
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02:21:23 PM,Friday 11 May 2001