Talkin' Bout My Generation

"We hope you die before you get old."

March, April

You may find weird sorrow in these photographs of extinct animals. Still, do have a look at these beautiful creatures. Sometimes sorrow is better than mirth.

February

Not the cinema clips, but the song, even 2:29.

Update: The YouTube clip is gone. The song was by Regina Spektor, and at 2:29 she sings Pasternak's poem on February:

Февраль. Достать чернил и плакать!
Писать о феврале навзрыд,
Пока грохочащая слякоть
Весною черною горит.

Достать пролетку. За шесть гривен
Чрез благовест, чрез клик колес
Перенестись туда, где ливень
Еще шумней чернил и слез.

Где, как обугленные груши,
С деревьев тысячи грачей
Сорвутся в лужи и обрушат
Сухую грусть на дно очей.

Под ней проталины чернеют,
И ветер криками изрыт,
И чем случайней, тем вернее
Слагаются стихи навзрыд.

Perhaps our Fearsome Comrade can interpret it.

Everyone's Interest Is Stronger Than Mine

Thomas: the first stealth bomber was flown as a memorial for Vernon Orr.

Again a bomber flew overhead (over my head) at the Rose Parade. But Elliott Smith describes the rest:

B-2 Spirit?

A stealth bomber is repeatedly flying over my head.

Divine Election

I wrote in the propositions and voted No for president.

Wait, that's not it...

Good Idea

Archaeologist Israel Finkelstein of Tel Aviv University in Israel, [sic] added: "Taking the biblical description of King Solomon literally means ignoring two centuries of biblical research."

Say, This Farming Thing May Pay Off...

Make hay while you are in the eye of the storm. I now have three jobs, anyway.

(I speak as a Keynesian.)

What then? Shall we incur debt that liquidity may abound?

Actual Conversation Actually Edited

I: I forgot to tell you that I spent three days with Donald Miller. In the mountains.

S: Which texts?

I: Well, all of them, I guess: the incarnational Donald Miller. In the flesh.

S: The incarnational Donald.

I: Yes.

S: Flee to the mountains.

I: He sat down with me, J., J.'s friend, and this other guy. It was my chance, my friend.

I said to him:

"Do you know that you spelled Elliott Smith's name wrong in your book Blue Like Jazz?"

He said that he didn't.

S: That's a glorious story.

New Job

I now have two jobs, which means that this blog's layout will remain an ugly mess.

Why hasn't this blog meant much recently, anyway? The answer lies here, and here, here, here, and here. But I don't understand why I wasted so much on this.

And please do go and read Thomas here.

"I am king of the Americans and above economics."

Don't piss down my back and tell me it's liquidity.

Rock Me, Dr. Zaius

I'd love to hear it.

Scott Cairns

I think only John H. would care about this, and he doesn't read my blog. But:

In May, I saw the poet Scott Cairns. Cairns read from his various works.

Afterward, he talked of Mount Athos ("I'd encourage you to go there, but I know some of you can't."). Cairns said that he had been raised a Presbyterian but left to become Orthodox and that sometimes he wished he would have stayed put because he was "a pretty happy Presbyterian;" perhaps "a braver story would have been staying put;" perhaps he should have stayed to share with them the beauty that he discovered.

Afterward, I talked to him about Greek, Calvino, Calvin, and Kundera. When Cairns mentioned that he had not read Hart's The Beauty of the Infinite (though someone from Eighth Day Books had recommended it to him), I insisted that he take my copy of the book, which I happened to have with me in my angel bag.

Cairns commented on J.'s boots, and then the five of us drove to a pub in downtown Fullerton. I shared some beers with Mr. Cairns, J., D., C., and one other. I talked about the Arab Conquest and Cairns danced to Annie Lennox.

On the Radio, Spektor-Style

"If you have life-threatening cancer, can a robot named da Vinci help you recover faster?" I don't know.

"We're Kaiser Permanente, and we want you to thrive" - so that we don't have to pay for the maintenance of you health, and thereby profit maximally.

Shine On in the Great Gig

Richard Wright has died.

History, Depression, Doom, Repetition, Chiasms

"We have crossed the Rubicon," Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk said on Thursday, perhaps unaware that Caesar's crossing of the Rubicon was an act of war.

Ah, the vicissitudes of European politics!

Chiasm of History

The Cold War is over.

Fragment of a Hand-Written Note from January

The Fed will "inject" new money into the economy (oikos or soma), which will "flood" the market to help the "sinking," "evaporating" dollar.

"Mommy, he's laughing because he has faith!"

Those who learn from history are doomed to watch it be repeated.

Signs of the Beasts

1. I have a bee problem. The bees have problems of their own.

The bees around my house never swarm in the same place: sometimes they swarm around my roof, sometimes they swarm in the trees, and sometimes they issue forth in great numbers from my landlord's turret. If I cannot see them swarming, I can still see a few of them flit across the ground, dying. One day the bees completely covered my neighbor's driveway, lying still; then flying away.

These bees also have a destructive love of light. In the evening the bees orbit my houses' glowing light bulbs; and when I read at night, they repeatedly strike my window from the outside, trying to reach my lamp's light.

2. Last week in Santa Anita, J. and I drove straight into a neighborhood full of fowl.

When I first entered the neighborhood, I saw a peacock (peahen) run away from my car. I hadn't seen a peacock in a long time, and I was mildly excited. I pointed the bird out to J. and reminded her of the Raymond Carver story "Feathers." We resumed our drive, but soon enough we saw peacocks walking on the sidewalk, peacocks standing in front yards, and peacocks perched on mailboxes. We were beset by peacocks. I drove more cautiously, so as not to hit the peacocks; as we passed by a house, a peacock started towards us, fanned his tail, and screeched loudly, scaring J.

Despite J.'s protests, I drove my car deeper into the neighborhood. I spotted a couple walking a dog. I stopped my car and asked the couple why the neighborhood was full of peacocks. They explained that the peacocks had come from the arboretum across the street that the peacocks now lived in the neighborhood; as they talked to me, my eye caught several peacocks on the roof of the house behind them. Despite these augurs' calm words and soothing soothsaying, I interpreted the birds' stalking as inauspicious and promptly drove out of the neighborhood.

Later that night, J. and I lost each other at the Santa Anita Mall.

3. What's with dogs in The Dark Knight?

To the Uemermensch:

And what if I could not find the pun? Would you call it a tragedy? Or would you stand and refrain, fearing the Caligulates and their nay-saying phillipics?

A koan for a kyon, please.

Also: How is Hyderabad? I hope you know where you are now, and I hope you enjoy the ghee.

Earthquake

For those who care: I am well, though there was an earthquake where I work (the epicenter was in Chino Hills, I hear).

Consul

Caligula would be insanely proud of this little Vacillans.