Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! 3
The Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not.--Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus 4 rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton 5 blow his wreathed horn.
William Wordsworth, 1770-1850
3. Gift, sordid refers to the act of giving the heart away.
4. An old man of the sea who, in the Odyssey, can assume a variety of shapes.
5. A sea deity, usually represented as blowing on a conch shell.
Anywhere Out of the World 8
Life is a hospital where every patient is obsessed by the desire of changing beds. One would like to suffer opposite the stove, another is sure he would get well beside the window.
It always seems to me that I should be happy anywhere but where I am, and this question of moving is one that I am eternally discussing with my soul.
"Tell my, my soul, poor chilly soul, how would you like to live in Lisbon? It must be warm there, and you would be as blissful as a lizard in the sun. It is a city by the sea; they say that it is built of marble, and that its inhabitants have such a horror of the vegetable kingdom that they tear up all the trees. You see it is a country after my own heart; a country entirely made of mineral and light, and with liquid to reflect them."
My soul does not reply.
"Since you are so fond of being motionless and watching the pageantry of movement, would you like to live in the beatific land of Holland? Perhaps you could enjoy yourself in that country which you have so long admired in paintings on museum walls. What do you say to Rotterdam, 9 you who love forests of masts, and ships that are moored on the doorsteps of houses?"
My soul remains silent.
"Perhaps you would like Batavia 10 better? There, moreover, we should find the wit of Europe wedded to the beauty of the tropics."
Not a word. Can my soul be dead?
"Have you sunk into so deep a stupor that you are happy only in your unhappiness? If that is the case, let us fly to countries that are the counterfeits of Death. I know just the place for us, poor soul. We will pack up our trunks for Torneo. 11 We will go still farther, to the farthest end of the Baltic Sea; still farther from life if possible; we will settle at the Pole. There the sun only obliquely grazes the earth, and the slow alternations of daylight and night abolish variety and increase that other half of nothingness, monotony. There we can take deep baths of darkness, while sometimes for our entertainment, the Aurora Borealis will shoot up its rose-red sheafs like the reflections of the fireworks of hell!"
At last my soul explodes! "Anywhere! Just so it is out of the world!"
Charles Baudelaire, 1821-1867
8. Translated by Louis Varese. the title (given in English by Baudelaire) is based on a line from Thomas Hood's poem "Bridge of Sighs": "Anywhere, anywhere - out of the world." Baudelaire probably found the reference in Poe's Poetic Principle.
9. Large Dutch seaport.
10. Former name of Djakarta, captial of the Dutch East Indies and now the capital city of Indonesia.
11. A city in Finland.
4. An old man of the sea who, in the Odyssey, can assume a variety of shapes.
5. A sea deity, usually represented as blowing on a conch shell.
Anywhere Out of the World 8Life is a hospital where every patient is obsessed by the desire of changing beds. One would like to suffer opposite the stove, another is sure he would get well beside the window.
It always seems to me that I should be happy anywhere but where I am, and this question of moving is one that I am eternally discussing with my soul.
"Tell my, my soul, poor chilly soul, how would you like to live in Lisbon? It must be warm there, and you would be as blissful as a lizard in the sun. It is a city by the sea; they say that it is built of marble, and that its inhabitants have such a horror of the vegetable kingdom that they tear up all the trees. You see it is a country after my own heart; a country entirely made of mineral and light, and with liquid to reflect them."
My soul does not reply.
"Since you are so fond of being motionless and watching the pageantry of movement, would you like to live in the beatific land of Holland? Perhaps you could enjoy yourself in that country which you have so long admired in paintings on museum walls. What do you say to Rotterdam, 9 you who love forests of masts, and ships that are moored on the doorsteps of houses?"
My soul remains silent.
"Perhaps you would like Batavia 10 better? There, moreover, we should find the wit of Europe wedded to the beauty of the tropics."
Not a word. Can my soul be dead?
"Have you sunk into so deep a stupor that you are happy only in your unhappiness? If that is the case, let us fly to countries that are the counterfeits of Death. I know just the place for us, poor soul. We will pack up our trunks for Torneo. 11 We will go still farther, to the farthest end of the Baltic Sea; still farther from life if possible; we will settle at the Pole. There the sun only obliquely grazes the earth, and the slow alternations of daylight and night abolish variety and increase that other half of nothingness, monotony. There we can take deep baths of darkness, while sometimes for our entertainment, the Aurora Borealis will shoot up its rose-red sheafs like the reflections of the fireworks of hell!"
At last my soul explodes! "Anywhere! Just so it is out of the world!"
Charles Baudelaire, 1821-1867
8. Translated by Louis Varese. the title (given in English by Baudelaire) is based on a line from Thomas Hood's poem "Bridge of Sighs": "Anywhere, anywhere - out of the world." Baudelaire probably found the reference in Poe's Poetic Principle.
9. Large Dutch seaport.
10. Former name of Djakarta, captial of the Dutch East Indies and now the capital city of Indonesia.
11. A city in Finland.
30 comments:
these fine pieces are beautiful, and totally new to me. the restless soul looking for safe harbor. reminds me a bit of my mom lying in loneliness as a tadpole with a vibrant mind listening to others cry out in despair. interesting header image too, the misty pastoral scene feels like....sanctuary. thank you for sharing selections from your anthology. i wonder, do they still give work like this to students? they should. they will need to be armed for what is to come.
nice. Beaudelaire. Perfect for our time.
Yesterday my son asked me, "Are there bad people in our world?"
"Yes," I said.
He looked frightened suddenly. "I don't want bad people in our world!"
I told him I'll protect him... which I will, as much as I can.
I realized that until now, age 3 plus, he thought that "bad people" were only something you'd find in story books and children's films...
But who exactly are "bad people"? The desperate man resorting to thievery? Nah, as long as he doesn't hurt anyone. The thug who shoots someone for ten bucks? Yeah, I'd call that bad... the bankster who defrauds whole nations? Why no, that's just BAU.
Chickory, some professors will always go here and some Honors section administrators will always encourage them to do it, its the redeeming feature of our species - this desire to appreciate and commiserate. Outside of the classrooms, its up to us to take up where education left off which is why I have these anthologies, both used textbooks, both Norton, both wonderful, enlightening, restorative. I am glad you found so much to relate with.
Interestingly, I ran the titles through google and found everything, except the versions and translations were watered down. You have to search past all that to get to the originals. Why? Not enough ad revenue in the real thing therefore unworthy of attention in these awkward times?
VW: intless (less intellect)
VW2: monst (Na'vi for the Michele Bachmans and Jane Harmons of the universe)
Very nice quotes. I flatter myself into believing that you are thinking of Turey and myself. My back is screaming at me and I'm ignoring it to get things moved. I am a slave to "stuff." I swear I have more stuff than several small african villages. I had three woks, and ten bits of cast iron cookware. I have an ungodly number of hand tools. Whatever the number of personal items that exceeding it classifies you as OCD then I have more.
I don't think they are really things; they are stories that we tell ourselves about who we are. My junk pile is the props in my personal theatre of pride and ambition. Now I have to learn the story of the man who could walk away from junk. The man who gave things away until he was full on the inside and had empty hands. Of course he has to start with many items of wealth, interest, convenience and wonder and a vast emptiness whenever there was darkness and silence.
I wonder if I could go that far.
vword: unsions
Heh, interesting Publius. Lately, the bad people, while they're fomenting more wars and bailouts, seem to be setting the tone for all the little trickledown receivers to study and expand. It is always shocking and sad when the more contact you have with your local human race, the more rip offs one comes into contact with. Bad people began as desperate people who crossed the line so many times the line disappeared ... so that where they live now, habituating the "other" side appears good and moral.
Pangolin, you CAN go that far. Here is how you do it, make a rule (caution: doesn't include tools) everything you have not worn or used in the past 6 months goes. Many times I have done it. You can too. So I asked my best friend what she thought about it, I value her opinion, she reminded me her entire house burned down and with it all the twenties gowns and 1932 Rolls, and she said you just move on and collect again, it is NOT the end of eveything you stand for and think about yourself. What you said about props for our stories is very insightful, but we change and those props usually don't have any use in our present stories. But the storage cubicle people like to make us think not having our old and useless stuff is devastating, why they will even sell it if you default! I ask, sell to whom? What for? Go ahead. A dollar for someone else's old story? Good riddance.
Go ahead and flatter yourself, the two works just fell out of the anthology and said share us, now. Its time.
I have no money, no resources, no hopes. I am the happiest man alive.
Henry Miller
I could and will say the same.
"Even God does not dare appear to the hungry in any form except food" is famously attributed to Gandhi. Whether he actually said it or not, the point is well taken. No doubt many will get to test that theory as the Great Unraveling pushes us way past the point of mere ennui. Meanwhile, some food for the soul and a good house-cleaning can't hurt.
quote of the day
“She generally gave herself very good advice (though she very seldom followed it).”
Lewis Carroll (1832-1898)
—died Jan. 14, 1898, Guildford, Surrey. British logician, mathematician, and unmarried lecturer
haha—Oh Really Lewis
wv: elensing — Ellen DeGeneres ?
OMG Baz, fast forward to the present and he'd be living under an overpass as a registered sex offender. Likely he was nothing of the kind, but in these times, where there is smoke, there is fire.
Thanks McZilla, I see you came back again, good. Are you using a Mac? As in MacZilla?
That housecleaning can't get underway soon enough.
Well, that wuz zen—this is now. Speakin' of offending and smoke, it's time for my mornin' constitution—got a light ?
wv: teguil — the enigmatic graphic user interface lombast
So the picture is the very essence of settled in and quotation is about wanderlust.
Contrary winds?
I miss fog.
I have a personal wanderlust for nostalgia. It seemed the duet did not need me to elaborate since we've been elaborating all along according to the archives. But you make a good point, must the header art always relate to the topic? I have no set criteria that it should, the header art fits if I have artwork immediately available that is on topic. The other consideration is weaving thoughts through text using visuals. Like a layer cake. Words are not everything.
Where are we at today? Got a bed for tomorrow night Pangolin? Everybody is on pins and needles until you are settled somewhere for as long as you need to be until you go to Treasure Beach. Don't believe it?
Watch.
My friends and spars. In this comment section would you agree that Pangolin's shelter as of tomorrow is the question of the moment?
VW: nankesid - Syd and Nancy
You beat me on the number of cast iron ware Pangolin. Mine however are graduated by size and all good USA castings. My woks went to *Sally Anne. I had to let go of the blow torches, never know when hot kerosine is needed for metal work eh?
I started old to gold with the understanding that my collecting thing could pay school fees and buy food. It did and is. Two principles: Don't cry over spilt deals or missed opportunities and don't be attached to anything. One has to have the collecting mania to understand.
Objects that bear national/tribal/family stories should be where they may be 'read'. That awe we long for has been recorded by our old people in and on stone etc for us to remember certain things. The Great Pyramid for sure, some fit in the hand.
The rest are baubles and bling that remember the chase for beauty and boast. The craftspeople tell their stories there.
Tools; start with a good knife and stone and work up to Pango's and my all possible use collection. Storage/portability becomes a limitation. Unless the feet have found a longer term resting place. Lathes, drill presses and anvils. Toys for the boys that work to feed and clothe.
Oh that my feet could be at rest, they itch for clean sea water and quite paths. I know. it's the wellness of the heart regardless of time and place. The feet still itch.
Where is this promised land where our urge to move on is stilled? Finally.
I don't know where it's not. Maybe covered over with tar or made unbeareable by noise and confusion. Bro G says that one square mile? is cursed around a suicide. Di Duppy Dem! I've been in some spooky places where I would not be comfortable. Too damp maybe.
Talk 'bout wandering; we've wandered 360 degrees, the East wanderers met the West wanderers when X Columbus landed in Guanahini. Iberian/Moor/Sephardim and the Taino on the beach. Maybe Canaananites or Irish sailors before. Is the 'Grass is Greener' in our DNA?
Late nite and glad for this virtually real campfire.
*The Salvation Army. It puzzled me for while. Where did these Canadians hide this Sally who took stuff?
turey.
'A-Wind' Those sweet moaning ones. Leaves a-shudder.
'Mi-too-sa' An dem too missis.
Yes Nina, when we've shared such company there is concern for each other when we leave the campfire for our places, we have connected. Cold, damp and bad minded people are to be avoided.
Still in my younger days the sweetest sleep was in hidden places under a plastic sheet in Europe hitching.
The old bones cannot take such hackling again, unless they have to.
turey.
Must?
There seems to be no "must" when it comes to human thinking and feeling. Why do I like fog when others fear it? Who knows?
I envy the camera work. I can see the light but capturing it......
I'm on the floor of Mom's office. Which is out of the rain. I left a small plate of particularly pungent mexican cheese in plain view on the counter to entertain the sheriff's deputies. (no surprises otherwise) Gifted a lot of stuff to friendly neighbors. Kept too much. When Mom get's tired of me I have two sisters and a brother to bug.
The sky is so busy now and I haven't had time to sit with it. Soon.
Equinox coming.
Iron pan, knife and stone. The big cast iron been feeding my family more than my 45 years. Corn bread, slumgullion, and dutch-baby pancakes. Come again soon.
Like Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Verlaine, Mallarme, and I also like "Scarlet and Gold" from 13th Floor Elevator and some such. I've drunk two landfills of beercans, burnt a forest of hemp, had 300 acid trips, and I can tell you, I STILL don't know. Other than I'm glad to have the cast iron liver of the Appalachian Scotch Irish to live through it and 'still go figure' & see the beautiful stars at night... oh look at them tonite!! Like Les and so many others before and during, I remain hopeful....
the darkness cannot remain forever.
...When the rain, stretching out its endless train
Imitates the bars of a vast prison
And a silent hoard of loathsome spiders
Comes to spin their webs in the depths of our brains...
All at once the bells leap with rage
And hurl a frightful roar at heaven
Even as wandering spirits with no country
Burst into a stubborn, whimpering, cry......
--Baudelaire. from SPLEEN
Incredible, just incredible comments today.
Anonymous, yes, I considered Spleen, thank you for going ahead and laying it out there.
We've been in blizzard weather two days/nights now, fog, fog, beautiful fog. I drove through it last week at night, it nestles one inside a cocoon of imaginary geographies, suggests Siberian forests lining the rural roads, it could have been Maine, it could have been Connecticut, it could have been Germany.
Pangolin, you have choices! We'll never look back and laugh about this time, we will look back and see where this growth spurt took you. Opportunity comes in disguise. Its like a creeping, rolling fog that way and then it lifts and you get your bearings again and adjust as necessary.
Wow - fog is here these days, too.
I like it. It quiets the mind and soul.
Had dinner tonight at my brother's. We get along well enough again to have such events. What is strange: a year ago, my wife barely talked to him, called him disturbed and evil, but now he's "recovered" somehow. He blames his reaction to his thyroid medication for his insane multi-year neurosis, and a mold infection in his lungs, etc. etc.
But now he's back! Making tons of money as a sales rep for a big chemical company, and dating five women at once on match.com . I told him that he collects women like some people collect stamps. He just laughed at this joke, pleased at his prospects.
One of his current favorites is a woman with a PhD in cell biology, and a degree in law (patent law) from the University of Chicago (the same institution that basically destroyed my life a few years ago).
Am I just a loser in life to find these people revolting? The cut-and-paste patent lawyers, MBAs (my brother), and assorted corporate drones?
I've never really fit in, so why do I even care about these people? Well, I don't, but I was forced to listen at dinner, as the droning of the automatons went on.
I had that realization tonight: there are people/robots with amazing skills: cell biology, computer programming, weapons design, etc.
They live. You meet them. They pursue their "goals."
Yet there is something frighteningly dead about them, as though they do not really live. They are pursuing an algorithm programmed into them from the time they started school: learn, follow, feel that you are incomplete without the imprimatur of degree/job/spouse/title. Breed. Retire. Die. Repeat cycle.
I am not on the right planet. I am so fucked. Ever feel that way? Forgive my language.
A few months ago, I got in trouble. My son dropped a cookie and it broke. He said, "fuck." I am pretty sure that I taught him that.
I will not teach him false manners... just the real ones: to never consciously hurt another human being out of spite or for entertainment or pleasure.
I feel as though I am on the wrong side of the bars in a zoo.
What else can I report to my friends here that you probably don't want to know? That's enough for tonight.
Peace...
Did Obama really discover some courage regarding Israel's actions, or is it just for show, or a blip?
What is going on out there?
Publius_Ever get the feeling that you're the only sober one at the party; at work. I know exactly how you feel about our Stepford neighbors. There's not much you can do about it but seek out fellow travelers.
You might want to be careful about discounting the mold issue though. I'm highly sensitive to it myself and a run in with a moldy house had me at my worst/stupidest behavior also.
Suffering fools kindly is a mitzvah; I help people to increase their spiritual wealth all the time.
Pangolin:
I'm actually NOT skeptical about my brother's mold claims.
I think it contributed to a particularly dark period.
It made his innate paranoia worse.
It's still there, though.
His paranoia makes him a great sales person and corporate operative.
He worries about what other people think about him to an extraordinary degree.
When we were growing up, he was much more affected by our parents' craziness: enabling mother, alcoholic father. I retreated to my books and microscopes and science and fiction.
He fits in well wherever he goes, but he can't make a "relationship" with a women work very well. I don't fit in anywhere really, but women seem to like me... (take this with a grain of salt).
But every few years, he calls up feeling suicidal, literally. He feels that his life has no meaning.
He's discovered that meaning now in triathlons and extreme trials of athletic prowess.
He's normal in his pathology, and thus sees me as the freak.
He told us that the economy is really recovering... so I guess we should all be happy, and buy another $6000 carbon-fiber frame bicycle, and get on with our lives. We're just a bunch of pathological doomers here.
Addendum:
I've made an effort to almost never use so-called "foul" language around the family. It really serves no point, other than to express frustration, powerlessness, or anger.
Of course, I still feel those feelings at times, but there are other outlets.
What are your takes on salty language? Is it best avoided altogether, or does a salty tongue tell truths that can't be otherwise expressed?
Main point: I don't want my three year old getting reprimanded for it, so I have to play it clean.
I'm not sure exactly whom you are addressing, Publius. But I try to not rely on slang myself because it prevents us from expressing what we are actually experiencing. The words and expressions you are talking about are automatic "learned blocks" that habitually keep us from expressing genuine anger or frustration and they denigrate others around us who 1) don't know what we really mean or 2) get confused about whom we are speaking to and feel blamed somehow. We have enough words in English to speak truthfully.
like death, murder, kill — unfairness, inequality, racism, nazism — pimp my ride, e.g.
wv: furupro ?
“It was not that she was out of temper, but that the world was not equal to the demands of her fine organism.”
George Eliot (1819-1880) — Well, of course a woman masquerading as a man.
wv: ellan — haha
Heh heh. Having a nice time? I so enjoy you.
VW: brogis (Na'vi for adopted brothers, singular would be "brogi")
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