Category: general
It’s either a clever turn if a phrase, or not. ”I grew up in the Bible Belt…” the anonymous contribution to The Sun’s Readers Write section begins and concludes that “…it was better to be an honest… read more »
Organic garden — the last weekend in June And here on earth come emulating flies, That though they never equal stars in size, (And they were never really stars at heart) … read more »
James Longenbach presented a lecture titled “The Excess of Poetry” at the Warren Wilson College MFA program for writers this morning. Here’s a few of the notes I wrote: The act of writing is… read more »
GermanHeit is an excellent resource for those interested in learning to read German (or learn in better) or those desiring to know more about life in contemporary Germany. Recently, GermanHeit… read more »
Czeslaw Milosz’s birthday is today. Just in case you wanted to know.
To believe you are magnificent. And gradually to discover that you are not magnificent. Enough labor for one human… read more »
The Warren Wilson College MFA program for writers provides free readings and lectures to the public. The first reading begins tomorrow night. The reading schedule is posted on their web site… read more »
The urban garden as it looks in early June; squash and peas begin flowering. Oh, Adam was a gardener, and God who made him sees That half a proper gardener’s work is done upon his… read more »
Mickey’s First Day: an indie comic
A comic book about a hair salon called Tease and a cosmetologist named Mickey may not be the first floppy you look for when you shop at your local comic book dealer. Then again, I’m not your typical comic book reader. Last week I picked up an Asheville indie comic from Deaver Park Press at Comic Envy. Tiziana Severse and Brent Baldwin team up to self-publish Mickey’s First Day (I was able to secure #69 of 75 limited edition copies). As far as slice-of-life drama comic books, it’s off to a good start.
A few years ago I read an excellent black and white graphic novel titled House of Java (now collected in two trades). The artwork wasn’t particularly top notch, but the stories were engaging and the characters were always interesting. Maybe that’s the appeal of indie comics: great writing and engaging stories. I don’t expect Barry Windsor Smith artwork from indie comics. I expect a raw art form found in Mickey’s First Day and House of Java. Another indie comic book I eagerly collected as floppies was The Waiting Place (now beautifully collected in one volume). Again, the artwork is good, but the storytelling is great. I hope to see more good material from the team of Deaver Park Press.
Vigilant fact checking is still essential to journalism
It appears that you can’t just say 70% of what you read online is by your friends on Facebook or Twitter. You actually need to provide reference material.
Silly me. I thought everything on the internet was true. [citation needed]
Link: Is 70 percent of what we read online really by our friends?
Quote: Philosophy kills
Awhile ago, a friend introduced me as a philosopher, artist and writer. It turns out that philosophy may be a potentially hazardous lifestyle.
From Simon Critchley:
Philosophy should come with the kind of health warning one finds on packs of European cigarettes: PHILOSOPHY KILLS…. Socrates was charged with impiety towards the gods of the city and with corrupting the youth of Athens…. A couple of generations later…. Aristotle, escaped Athens saying, “I will not allow the Athenians to sin twice against philosophy.” From the ancient Greeks to Giordano Bruno, Spinoza, Hume… philosophy has repeatedly and persistently been identified with blasphemy against the gods, whichever gods they might be. Nothing is more common in the history of philosophy than the accusation of impiety.
Link: NYT: What Is a Philosopher?
Maybe being introduced as an “intellectual” would be safer than a “philosopher.”
Google says, my bad
Google’s history of scanning books without author/publisher permission to populate their online book catalog makes me suspect there’s something askew with this story. From the WSJ:
Google had previously said it was collecting the location of Wi-Fi hot spots from its StreetView vehicles, but not the information being transmitted over those networks by users.
“It’s now clear that we have been mistakenly collecting samples of payload data from open (i.e. non-password-protected) Wi-Fi networks, even though we never used that data in any Google products,” wrote Mr. Eustace. “We are profoundly sorry for this error and are determined to learn all the lessons we can from our mistake.”
Read more: link
this is my last post
there is nothing left
a final violent vomiting cough
a gasping for air
a relief that it is
finally over
Whoever had the thought to render bear fat and burn it in a lamp was touched a bit, or bored, or left alone to ponder light too long in some dank cabin: bear fat pops and stinks and brings no cheer to our condition. My brother Squire would burn such lamps to read the Scriptures: eyelids…
pococurante
noun • /pōˌkō-ko͝o-rănˈtē, -ränˈtĕ/ • a person who does not care
adjective • indifferent, nonchalant
lypophrenia
noun • a vague feeling of sadness, seemingly without cause
i wonder if mondays in norway are better than mondays here…
Weekly web links of interest
Blogging
- How to Blog: How to Choose a Blog Niche [6 Tips]
- How to Blog: Choose a Niche for Your Blog [Why Niches are Important]
Productivity
Labor / Work
DIY / How to
(Source: http://www.etsy.com/shop/theblackapple)
Open House, Theodore Roethke
My secrets cry aloud.
I have no need for tongue.
My heart keeps open house,
My doors are widely swung.
An epic of the eyes
My love, with no disguise.My truths are all foreknown,
This anguish self-revealed.
I’m naked to the bone,
With nakedness my shield.
Myself is what I wear:
I keep the spirit spare.The anger will endure,
The deed will speak the truth
In language strict and pure.
I stop the lying mouth:
Rage warps my clearest cry
To witless agony.
Knowledge is erotic.
Jane Hirshfield, from her book Nine Gates
The art of living is the art of knowing how to believe lies.
Cesare Pavese, from his diaries 1935-50
Coffeehouse Junkie 
