Bloglet, the gentleman's mock turtle soup -- Moss made it sweeter than myrrh ash and dhoup
For the first time since I got out of high school, I won't be working there this summer. I dreamed about it a few weeks ago. I wish...
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01:05:05 AM,Sunday 5 May 2002
XL from Spiritual Meditations, by Edward Taylor
Still I complain; I am complaining still.
O woe is me! Was ever Heart like mine?
A Sty of FIlth, a Trough of Washing-Swill,
A Dunghill Pit, a Puddle of mere Slime,
A Nest of Vipers, Hive of Hornets-stings,
A Bag of Poyson, Civit-Box of Sins.
Was ever Heart like mine? So bad? black? vile?
Is any Divell blacker? Or can Hell
Produce its match? It is the very soile
Where Satan reads his charms and sets his spell;
His Bowling Ally where he sheeres his fleece
At Nine Pins, Nine Holes, Morrice, Fox and Geese.
His Palace Garden where his courtiers walke;
His Jewells cabbinet. Here his caball
Do sham it and truss up their Privie talk
In Fardells of Consults and bundles all.
His shambles and his Butchers stalls herein.
It is the Fuddling Schoole of every sin.
Was ever Heart like mine? Pride, Passion fell,
Ath'ism, Blasphemy pot, pipe it, dance,
Play Barlybreaks, and at last couple in Hell:
At Cudgells, Kit-Cat, Cards and Dice here prance:
At Noddy, Ruff-and-Trump, Jink, Post and Pare,
Put, One-and-thirty, and such other ware.
Grace shuffled is away; Patience oft sticks
Too soon, or draws itselfe out, and's out put.
Faiths over-trumpt, and oft doth lose her tricks.
Repentance's chalkt up Noddy, and out shut.
They Post and Pare off Grace thus, and its shine.
Alas! alas! was ever Heart like mine?
Sometimes methinks the serpents head I mall:
Now all is still: my spirits do recreute.
But ere my Harpe can tune sweet praise, they fall
On me afresh and tare me at my Root.
They bite like Badgers now: nay worse, although
I tooke them toothless sculls, rot long agoe.
My Reason now's more than my sense, I feele
I have more sight than sense: Which seems to bee
A Rod of sunbeams t'whip me for my steele.
My Spirits spiritless and dull in mee
For my dead prayerless Prayers: the Spirits winde
Scarce blows my mill about. I little grinde.
Was ever Heart like mine? My Lord, declare
I know not what to do: What shall I doe?
I wonder, spilt I don't upon Despare.
Its grace's wonder that I wrack not so.
I faintly shun't, although I see this case
Would say my sin is greater than thy grace.
Hope's Day-peep down hence through this chinck, Christs name,
Propitiation is for sins. Lord, take
It so for mine. Thus quench thy burning flame
In that clear stream that from his side forth brake.
I can no comfort take while thus I see
Hells cursed Imps thus jetting strut in mee.
Lord, take thy sword: these Anakims destroy;
Then soake my soule in Zions Bucking-tub
With Holy Soap, and Nitre, and rich Lye.
From all Defilement me cleanse, wash, and rub.
Then wrince, and wring mee out till th'water fall
As pure as in the Well: not foule at all.
And let thy Sun shine on my Head out cleare.
And bathe my Heart within its radient beams:
Thy Christ make my Propitiation Deare:
Thy Praise shall from my Heart breake forth in streams.
This reeching Vertue of Christs blood will quench
Thy Wrath, slay Sin, and in thy Love mee bench.
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09:15:42 PM,Saturday 4 May 2002
I've read that people used to consider the liver the seat of consciousness. And of course Aristotle thought it was the heart, and that the brain was pretty much just a cooling system. It seems more natural to me and probably most of us to think of the brain as being the spot where we live, as opposed to the animated clay of the rest of our bodies. I guess most of that's convention, though it seems to make sense in other ways too; our brain is right by our ears, our eyes, our noses, and our tongues. We get headaches when we think too hard. When we're hit in the head, we feel not just pain but disorientation. Now, it's true that some fierce emotions (fright definitely, joy probably, grief maybe) are felt in the heart, but why the liver? And when the Egyptians, say, were upset or feeling bewildered, did they clutch their livers instead of their heads? Even today, when do we clutch our hearts and when do we clutch our heads? What about our throats? Or our stomachs? Or our groins? What emotions correspond to which? And what does it have to do with thinking, or consciousness, or mind?
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06:23:43 PM,Saturday 4 May 2002
T.I.A.I.L.W.:SerenaPillai.
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05:13:37 PM,Saturday 4 May 2002
Ew! Longhaired countertenors licking their swords. ~Skeevy~.
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04:36:53 AM,Saturday 4 May 2002
Ew! Longhaired countertenors licking their swords. ~Skeevy~.
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04:36:52 AM,Saturday 4 May 2002
The lad I mentioned a while back just got himself a weblog. If you were insulted by my ignorant flippancy of a few days back, you'd be best to read it. (`8
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06:55:34 PM,Friday 3 May 2002
Fan ta deg!
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04:35:42 PM,Friday 3 May 2002
Opinions on Blogledyte Swap, Remi Edition:
Pony the Penis: Perversely, I've started liking this song way more than is good for me. Damn Remi and his evil horrible-music-liking hypno-rays.
Powerpuff Song: I can't like this song for three reasons -- I've never seen the show, my ex was scarily obsessed with the show, and it's brain melting cutesy girly pow pow music, my mortal enemy to the death. Oh well.
Yesterday Is Here: The perfect antidote. What a good song. Wow.
It Was There That I Saw You: The guitar kind of assaults me, but I figure that's deliberate. I can't make out the lyrics -- I'll have to listen more closely a few more times.
G-Spot Tornado: The first time, I didn't like it at all. The second time, I liked parts of it. I think it might start making me happy, especially if I find myself defending a pack of orphans from giant rats in a kung fu diner with my bare hands.
Beyond Belief: Again, a good mellow cool down to the hyperness of the last one. Remi uses his suave-legend song powers frugally and effectively.
Svefn-G-Englar: The weirdest track so far sound-wise, at least. It stands out and is more immediately memorable than what's come before. It's a good slow shock to the ear, I think. Not something I'd listen to on its own merits, but it fits well with the mix.
Lost in Space: It reminds me of Remi somehow. The drumming, maybe. (`;
Scottish Rite Temple Stomp: This is the only song on this album that I'd heard before (besides Pony the Penis, which I had entirely repressed), after downloading it during the Comic Exhaustion Johnnychat when Katherine quoted it. I like the lyrics, but there's always been something unsettling about it to me. I sort of play it to punish myself. Heh.
The Glow: Dunno about this one yet. Undecided. Will listen more.
A Silver Key Can Open An Iron Lock Somewhere: Clean, open sound. Puts me in a mysterious mood. Like the accent and mysterious words. Unnerving, though, somehow.
Swan Swan Hummingbird: I've never been a fan of Mr. Stipe's voice, but I have to admit this is a very well-written song with a good melody.
Lazarus in Brooklyn: Back to the growly stuff that Tom Waits kicked up in the beginning, but with more kick this time. It's nice that the airy stuff alternates with this simpler more straightforward stuff.
I'm Destructive: Wait, I have heard this song before; I forgot. I heard it very briefly on the album, but before that I heard it come out of Erin Krasneiwicz's mouth during a Both Sandboxes rehearsal. It scared and tittilated me. Very happy memories. I'M DESTRUCTIVE!
In One Universe There Are Millions: No mix tape is complete without surf music. The robot voice freaks me out a bit, though. {shudder}
Internal Wrangler: I don't really know how to listen to pop music, so a lot of it goes through my ears without making the right impression. This song, with the wibble-wibble sound, and the tinkle-banging-clanging sounds, helps to make it more memorable, but I still can't quite wrap my memory around it. It's a shortcoming that I'm trying to fix.
Don't Think Twice, It's Alright: I expected this song to be awful, of course, because the Indigo Girls are also my mortal enemy (actually, anything named The ____ Girls is likely to be, now that I think of it) and I'm not all that hot on Joan Baez either, but instead of syrupy and cheesy, it turned out to be sad and quiet. It's too simple to be over-sweet. I approve.
Plateau: I like how this sort of picks up the folk/country style of the last one but makes it sound just a little peculiar. The guy's voice doesn't really endear itself to me, but the lyrics sound interesting from what I've absorbed of 'em.
Kicker of Elves: Yay! Cross-eyed silliness again! Just what was needed.
She's an Angel: It's a well known fact that I can't stand They Might Be Giants. There are three main reasons: I don't like their voices, I don't like their melodies, and their lyrics bug me. I didn't know until now, though, that all of these fade into irrelevance with the addition of a kickass tuba part. I listen to the tuba and it all feels groovy. Hallelu.
Words and Guitar: Oy, girl rock. {stifles inborn prejudices} Um... it's awright.
Back and Forth: Opens with a great drum bit. Nice way to wrap the album, just with beats and no words for a while. It sounds kind of like a bopping into the sunset kind of song anyway. Still can't catch the words, but I like how quick they come.
Me and Remi have notoriously contrary tastes, so I was really suprprised how much I liked listening to this album. I'll definitely listen to it again when I'm in a certain mood (a good certain mood). It's very skilfully put together, that's for sure. But the songs are generally smooth-edged and easy to listen to without being predictable, so they get credit too. I dig it.
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03:43:51 AM,Friday 3 May 2002
I'm about to break my no-images-on-blog rule again. I've done it once before. There's no reason. I just wanna look at a bit of color and shape and words as consolation for not being here this summer and missing the one thing I wanna see more than anything -- more than Shockheaded Peter! more than Leonard Cohen! The one damn thing ever. So here's a picture on my blog and fooey if ya don't like it. Humph. _
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02:45:58 AM,Friday 3 May 2002
Man am I glad I don't have to write a squid paper over Reality weekend. That is all.
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02:25:01 AM,Friday 3 May 2002
Spinoza, my only companion.
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01:48:59 AM,Friday 3 May 2002
I feel surly... Hus-surly. Husserl, you surl, we all surl for Husserl. Blah.
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08:11:08 PM,Thursday 2 May 2002
How can such a funny-looking instrument make such a sexy goddamn noise?
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07:54:45 PM,Thursday 2 May 2002
I have a hatred for atonal flute music used in experimental movie soundtracks. With one exception...
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04:40:39 AM,Thursday 2 May 2002
Eva Malkonian (the cute-as-all-get-out Russian with the dragon shirt who's dating Dave Prosper) started writing on the board in Cyrillic today when the Passion chorale I was trying to teach 'em all ran afoul. She wrote some insult that had to do with the Fig of Spain (woo!) and she wrote all our names and some other things too. Then she talked about a nasty dish with cold lumps of fat and soggy spinach. She says Northern Russian cooking is terrible. Her dad cooks Armenian, though, which is yummy. Wish I could cook Armenian... yoing-zow-wokka.
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03:08:13 AM,Thursday 2 May 2002
"With Donne, whose muse on dromedary trots,
Wreathe iron pokers into true-love knots ;
Rhyme's sturdy cripple, fancy's maze and clue,
Wit's forge and fire-blast, meaning's press and screw."
-- S.T.C.
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all this poetry twaddle is 'cause I have to find a poem for French class on Friday. My instinct is to bring Donne or Coleridge, but I always bring Donne or Coleridge and just about nothing but, since eighth grade. It's ridiculous. I like funny poetry more than words can speak it, but we have to talk about the thing for an hour, and you can't really talk about funny 'cause first off it destroys the ease of it and makes it lame and second off funny (with rare exceptions) isn't designed to be picked apart Johnny-style. You can do it in plays and novels, up to a point, 'cause you can talk about the characters at least, or the plot. With poems, it's just the bouncing of the words and the jokes and the wryness or whatever, and not usually a big undertow of meaning. Dunno. I'll keep looking.
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02:59:48 AM,Thursday 2 May 2002
T.I.A.I.L.W.: Stevie Smith.
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01:59:18 AM,Thursday 2 May 2002
100%... something or other. {sigh}
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02:52:19 PM,Wednesday 1 May 2002
