Friday, October 30, 2009

"Mark but this Flea..."

Hey, it's University policy!

An email was just sent out by Yale's Sexual Harassment and Assault Resources and Education Center letting us know that the university is looking out for us on Halloween:
"It is our wish to ... strengthen the resolve of those who are dedicated to finding just the right words that would lead to glorious, consensual sex."
But if they really wanted to strengthen our resolve, they would show us how a real man goes about it:

In der Wunderkammer Belauscht

[The FOREIGN DEVIL is sitting in his "office chair" with a book and a bourbon, underlining passages with a ruler in that obsessive way of his, and cursing under his breath when he leaves an unwanted blot of ink. HERR GOER enters with his laptop.]

HG: What are you doing?

FD: I'm reading a book.

HG (in his most pretentious voice): "I'm reading a book." What's the book?

(The FD lifts the book so the title can be read.)

HG: "The Beauty of the Infinity" ... What's that, mathematical philosophy?

FD: No, more like antiquarian theology.

HG: Because, you know, there are some philosophy books that deal with infinity as a mathematical concept.

FD: I know, but this-- is not one of those books.

HG: You know, in math sometimes when you get infinity, you can also say-- like when the limit is infinity, you can also say, "It doesn't exist."

FD: Okay.

HG: So does that mean God doesn't exist?

FD: No, it means Christianity is pretty shocking.

HG: ...

FD: It means Christianity looks things like that in the face, and admits them, and then says, "Nevertheless..."

HG: Oh. Well, good night.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Chesterton Celebrates Today's Victory





























White founts falling in the Courts of the sun,
And the Soldan of Byzantium is smiling as they run;
There is laughter like the fountains in that face of all men feared,
It stirs the forest darkness, the darkness of his beard;
It curls the blood-red crescent, the crescent of his lips;
For the inmost sea of all the earth is shaken with his ships.
They have dared the white republics up the capes of Italy,
They have dashed the Adriatic round the Lion of the Sea,
And the Pope has cast his arms abroad for agony and loss,
And called the kings of Christendom for swords about the Cross.
The cold queen of England is looking in the glass;
The shadow of the Valois is yawning at the mass;
From evening isles fantastical rings faint the Spanish gun,
And the Lord upon the Golden Horn is laughing in the sun.



Tuesday, October 6, 2009

A Fairly Good Argument for Totalitarianism

Sunday, October 4, 2009

Fioretti, I.viii

One day in winter, as St Francis was going with Brother Leo from Perugia to St Mary of the Angels, and was suffering greatly from the cold, he called to Brother Leo, who was walking on before him, and said to him: "Brother Leo, if it were to please God that the Friars Minor should give, in all lands, a great example of holiness and edification, write down, and note carefully, that this would not be perfect joy."

A little further on, St Francis called to him a second time: "O Brother Leo, if the Friars Minor were to make the lame to walk, if they should make straight the crooked, chase away demons, give sight to the blind, hearing to the deaf, speech to the dumb, and, what is even a far greater work, if they should raise the dead after four days, write that this would not be perfect joy."

Shortly after, he cried out again: "O Brother Leo, if the Friars Minor knew all languages; if they were versed in all science; if they could explain all Scripture; if they had the gift of prophecy, and could reveal, not only all future things, but likewise the secrets of all consciences and all souls, write that this would not be perfect joy."

After proceeding a few steps farther, he cried out again with a loud voice: "O Brother Leo, thou little lamb of God! if the Friars Minor could speak with the tongues of angels; if they could explain the course of the stars; if they knew the virtues of all plants; if all the treasures of the earth were revealed to them; if they were acquainted with the various qualities of all birds, of all fish, of all animals, of men, of trees, of stones, of roots, and of waters - write that this would not be perfect joy."

Shortly after, he cried out again: "O Brother Leo, if the Friars Minor had the gift of preaching so as to convert all infidels to the faith of Christ, write that this would not be perfect joy."

Now when this manner of discourse had lasted for the space of two miles, Brother Leo wondered much within himself; and, questioning the saint, he said: "Father, I pray thee teach me wherein is perfect joy." St Francis answered: "If, when we shall arrive at St Mary of the Angels, all drenched with rain and trembling with cold, all covered with mud and exhausted from hunger; if, when we knock at the convent-gate, the porter should come angrily and ask us who we are; if, after we have told him, 'We are two of the brethren', he should answer angrily, 'What ye say is not the truth; ye are but two impostors going about to deceive the world, and take away the alms of the poor; begone I say'; if then he refuse to open to us, and leave us outside, exposed to the snow and rain, suffering from cold and hunger till nightfall - then, if we accept such injustice, such cruelty and such contempt with patience, without being ruffled and without murmuring, believing with humility and charity that the porter really knows us, and that it is God who maketh him to speak thus against us, write down, O Brother Leo, that this is perfect joy. And if we knock again, and the porter come out in anger to drive us away with oaths and blows, as if we were vile impostors, saying, 'Begone, miserable robbers! to to the hospital, for here you shall neither eat nor sleep!' - and if we accept all this with patience, with joy, and with charity, O Brother Leo, write that this indeed is perfect joy. And if, urged by cold and hunger, we knock again, calling to the porter and entreating him with many tears to open to us and give us shelter, for the love of God, and if he come out more angry than before, exclaiming, 'These are but importunate rascals, I will deal with them as they deserve'; and taking a knotted stick, he seize us by the hood, throwing us on the ground, rolling us in the snow, and shall beat and wound us with the knots in the stick - if we bear all these injuries with patience and joy, thinking of the sufferings of our Blessed Lord, which we would share out of love for him, write, O Brother Leo, that here, finally, is perfect joy.

And now, brother, listen to the conclusion. Above all the graces and all the gifts of the Holy Spirit which Christ grants to his friends, is the grace of overcoming oneself, and accepting willingly, out of love for Christ, all suffering, injury, discomfort and contempt; for in all other gifts of God we cannot glory, seeing they proceed not from ourselves but from God, according to the words of the Apostle, 'What hast thou that thou hast not received from God? and if thou hast received it, why dost thou glory as if thou hadst not received it?' But in the cross of tribulation and affliction we may glory, because, as the Apostle says again, 'I will not glory save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.' Amen."

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Another, from the Chinese of Chen Cao'an

《山坡羊》

晨雞初叫
昏鴉爭噪
那箇不去紅塵閙
路遙遙
水迢迢
功名盡在長安道
今日少年明日老
山 依舊好
人 憔悴了

To the tune, "Goats on the Mountainside."

The rooster crows at break of day,
At dusk the ravens squawk and fuss,
Who isn't busy making noise and raising clouds of dust?
The highway stretches far,
And the water flows away;
Everyone is city-bound and hopes to be a star,
And they'll be old tomorrow who are young and fresh today.
The hills
Will always last,
But men
Get ground down fast.

A Translation from the Chinese of Guan Hanqing

《四塊玉》

南畝耕
東山臥
世態人情經歷多
閒將往事思量過
是他
是我
爭什麽

To the tune, "Four Pieces of Jade."

Go till the southern fields
And sleep on lonely hills.
I've seen much of the world's and men's hearts' fickle ways,
And in my leisure I have pondered former days:
Others are worthy,
Dull am I,
Why should I try?

Monday, July 27, 2009

Sedona


















My family is taking the scenic route to my cousin's wedding next weekend in California; the first stop on our itinerary is Sedona, Arizona. Our plane landed in Phoenix, a city that could serve as an epitome of all that's wrong with the way Americans live. Acre after acre of poorly built and unnoteworthy subdivisions, many of them vacant, punctuated by big-box stores and the occasional megachurch, stretched along the interstate leading north from the airport. Only the temperatures and the occasional cartoonized petroglyph set into the concrete of an overpass reminded us that we had arrived in the Southwest.

Within an hour we had passed through the outermost circle of exurbia into the desert. Great saguaros stuck up out of the ground, branching off at improbable angles, and little scrubby bushes sprouted out of the ground every once in a while. Dim ranges of mountains rose in the
distance; at one point the interstate passed through a sloping trench to run along the top of a mesa. And above the whole scene loomed black clouds, lit up within by lightning, that
stretched down to the horizon ahead of us and increased the unearthly impression of that wind-blasted plain.

But soon enough we were in Sedona, a town of unsurpassed natural beauty whose population of moneyed retirees and graying Aquarians has taken steps t
o ensure that the town's booming development of the past 20 years has not significantly spoiled the view. (The McDonald's in town sports turquoise arches — the color yellow was thought to be out of keeping with the place's southwestern charm.) At the beginning of Sedona's rise as a second-home destination, a developer — I'm told — gave prospective buyers tours of the area in his pink jeep, until, realizing people would rather take tour the land than buy it, he converted his enterprise into the Pink Jeep Tour Company. My family took a tour with them; these pictures (I hope) capture something of the grandeur of this corner of the world.




This formation, known as the Kissing Rocks, is just one of the countless unusual rock formations in the ranges around Sedona. Most of them have whimsical names; there are nuns, movie cameras, Snoopy, a witch's hat, an elephant, and so on.











The rock around Sedona is a type of pale sandstone, that in most places has formed crystals with rust. The resulting stone is known as the Schnebly Hill Formation (Schnebly having been the first postmaster here), and is found nowhere else on earth. Veins of other minerals running through the rock create patterns like the one above, and the erosion of the millennia has imparted a deep red color to the soil.









The prickly pear is found everywhere here, restaurant menus not excepted. It can be grilled or fried and tastes like soggy zucchini.















The unusual formations of the rocks here allow for all kinds of perspective tricks.















The specially-modified jeeps used on the tour can manage impressive slopes; as the guide enjoyed saying, "Just because they're pink doesn't mean they're pansies."

Sunday, June 21, 2009

On the Anniversary of the Republic

On this day, in the year of grace 1788, upon the ratification of our present Constitution by the legislature of the State of New Hampshire, our Republic was born.
May the Lord bless the American Republic, confound her enemies, and ever favor her people with prosperity and peace.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

A Few Pictures from Bavaria


The church of the village of Wamberg, in the Alps above Garmisch-Partenkirchen.



Feeling Romantic in the mountains around Schloss Neuschwanstein.



View from the so-called Bärenhöhle outside Oberammergau.



On the choir loft of the beautiful church at Steinhausen.



Ducks in a stream in Oberammergau.



St. Florian on the firehouse in Unterammergau.



The island of Frauenchiemsee.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Et in Bavaria Ego

until the 26th instant.


Monday, May 11, 2009

Don't Mess with Agamemnon



Μή σε, γέρον, κοίλῃσιν ἐγὼ παρὰ νήυσι κίχειω
ἢ νῦν δηθύνοντ' ἢ ὕστερον αὖτις ἰόντα,
μή νύ τοι οὐ χραίσμῃ σκῆπτρον καὶ στέμμα θεοῖο·
τὴν δ' ἐγὼ οὐ λύσω· πρίν μιν καὶ γῆρας ἔπεισεν
ἡμέτερῳ ἐνὶ οἴκῳ ἐν Ἄργεϊ, τηλόθι πάτρης,
ἱστὸν ἐποιχομένην καὶ ἐμὸν λέχος ἀντιόωσαν·
ἀλλ' ἴθι, μὴ μ' ἐρέθιζε, σαώτερος ὥς κε νέηαι.


Why am I reading this instead of studying economics?

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

THECEL

appensus es in statera, et inventus es minus habens.























The decline of this blog has only been an aspect of the more general decline of its author.

But the end of term, God willing, will bring a close to the current academic, legal and financial disaster, and the indolence of summer will drive me back to this poor corner of the internet.

Expect:

Fragmenta Litteraria
Second-rate Photography
Third-rate Doggerel
and the pleasure of watching a Foreign Devil arise from his ashes.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

For the Record, I Like Flying...