Tuesday, April 21, 2015

"By the same token"


Like you, I can say I am often
wary of an image of something
seemingly familiar, if it does-
n't correspond with expectation
in my experience. A physiognomy
stamped in red, white and blue,
for example, is not unlikely to
have me groping for the religi-
ous freedom to have nothing to
do with it, if not succumbing
to fears for social cohesion.

And then I realise, there are
not a few places where I'd ra-
ther sit, than on the United
States Supreme Court. Can you
imagine, having to nanny the
permutations of phobia, through
every iteration of inexperience
as if it raised a Constitution-
al consternation?





Yes, you were about to say:
coming out must be bad enough;
just imagine, shepherding so-
ciety through every phase of
the dissolution of panic.

And how ringingly the forbears
of today's inventors of divine
mandates for discrimination,
did regale us with the horror
of military indiscipline, many
will recall within the careers
of half the United States Sen-
ate. Wasn't it our dear John
McCain, for example, who hec-
tored witnesses before that 
same Committee on Armed Ser-
vices which he now so richly
abuses to disturb Executive
conduct of diplomacy, for un-
dermining the sacred phobias
of seamen slumbering in their
bunks, with erotic suggestion
second only to Eisenstein's
in Battleship Potemkin? It
was - and aren't we all glad
for the context of our life?




Any moment, one almost expects
a disciple of genuine "strict
scrutiny" to intone from the 
Bench, that it's high time to
accept a change of experience
before running off to Court
to suppress an image. Yet who
can blame an institution, for
reluctance to turn away its
most anxious supplicants, in
view of the mischief to be
enjoyed in trade. Thus, yes,
money is speech, and corpor-
ations are persons, by such
sleight of hand as to inspire
any nitwit to assert a piety.




By the same token, isn't it
endearing when yesterday's
testament for discrimination
becomes today's for getting
on with experience? I refer,
for example, to the brief
lately tendered by the aug-
as friend of the Court, for
the class of retired officers
in the United States military,
imploring the Court to recog-
nize a universal right of mar-
riage, in order to protect
unit cohesion in the armed
forces of the United States.
The Army and Marines cannot
recruit, the Navy cannot re-
tain its own officer corps,
the brief stipulates, if the
Court ignores our experience.

Compliments to the revolution
would not seem premature. We
are almost moot. What ever
shall we wear?














Adam Liptak
The New York Times©
20 April 2015

ii  Sergei Eisenstein
       director
    Eduard Tisse
       cinematography
    Battleship Potemkin
    1925






Sunday, April 19, 2015

Never fails ii





   The extremer the
   reactionary ris-
   ing, the younger
   the acolyte they
   choose. Is Rubio
   the new Santorum,
   the Ken Doll for
   the deadest end?







   People have a right to
   live out their religi-
   ous faith in their own
   lives.

   It's not that I'm
   against gay mar-
   riage.













 The echo chamber monologues
 of Right Wing think tanks
 simply pass from one little
 man on the wedding cake to
 the latest, from Dewey down
 to the present. The people
 powder their dewy fanny at
 the polls, and bundle them
 off to sinecures in K Street. 
















Alice Roosevelt Longworth






Saturday, April 18, 2015

Horace at your back viii: footholds


We mark an anniversary of
our earthquake, yours and
mine; one never hears the
San Franciscan say, You
couldn't understand it.
Rather, he believes we
do. He is, himself, a
constant, continuing mi-
grant toward settlement.







    What did you think of Chios,
    Bullatius, or of famous Les-
    bos, how did elegant Samos
    strike you, or Sardis, royal
    seat of Croesus, or Smyrna
    and Colophon, are they super-
    ior or inferior to their rep-
    utation?

    And you, my friend, accept
    with grateful hand whatever
    hour the god has blessed you
    with, and do not put off plea-
    sures to some unknown time, so
    that you may say .. you have
    lived happily; for if it is
    reason and forethought that
    take away our cares, not a
    site that commands a wide
    sweep of ocean, it is their
    climate, not their mind, that
    men change when they rush a-
    cross the sea.

































Horace
20 BC
John Davie
  translation
Satires and Epistles
  Epistles I, 11
op. cit.

April 18, 1906







Thursday, April 16, 2015

Let's look into agony


My feeling, I must tell you,
is probably very much like
yours, when I run into a suf-
ferer, en passant. 

    "Oh, yeah, well, I know your
    complaint, but did they never
    tell you about language, grow-
    ing up?"





    "I mean, you know, the drug,
    the cheap posture, the grub-
    by garbage clothes to punish
    your father: didn't they let
    you know poetry, your voice,
    could lift all this away?"


















    But it never fails, you know,
    much as we'd never want it to,
    that something intervenes, to
    amount to perfect sense.

    And we don't get a poet, but
    we get what we bargained for.
    They notoriously never come
    when we call, anyway, so we
    say, we came out of this OK.






    I, for my part, don't
    believe a word of this.
    It's just a guy thing,
    as we observe in Don
    Alfonso, to cover his
    bets with cynicism. In
    fact we do get a poem,
    every now and again.


















T.S. Eliot
1888 - 1965






Hunting life


Another day he spots what he
supposes to be a wood pigeon
but 'the possibility of its
being an immature male Pere-
grine flashed across my mind'.





'Presumably,' 'possibility':
wish fulfillment is at work
here: the beginnings of a 
longing for the peregrine so
keen that it caused - in the
blurry distance of his far-
sight - dove to morph into
falcon, pigeon to pass into
peregrine. From the start,
the predatory nature of the
falcons, their decisive speed,
their awesome vision and their
subtle killings all thrilled
him. He was enraptured ..























Robert Macfarlane
Landmarks
  5 : Hunting Life
Hamish Hamilton, 2015©

Valéry Lorenzo
Les augures

Lukas Hoffmann




Wednesday, April 15, 2015

Breakers ii





It was only a small place and they had cheered us too much,
A couple of allies, chance symbol of Freedom new-found,
They were eager to beckon, to back-slap, even to touch;
They put flowers in my helmet and corn-coloured wine in my hand.





The boy from Dakota and I, we had suffered too litle
To deserve all the flowers, the kisses, the wine and the thanks.
We both felt ashamed; till the kettledrum clangour of metal
On cobble and kerbstone proclaimed the arrival of tanks.





Who saw them first, the exiles returning, the fighters,
The Croix de Lorraine and the Tricouleur flown from the hull?
Who saw us moving more fitly to join the spectators,
The crazy, the crying, the silent whose hearts were full?





It was only a small place, but a bugle was blowing.
I remember the Mayor performing an intricate dance
And the boy from Dakota most gravely, most quietly, throwing
The flowers from his helmet toward the deserving of France.




























Paul Dehn
1912 - 1976
St Aubin d'Aubigné
1949

Jon Stallworthy
  editor
The New Oxford Book
  of War Poetry
Oxford University Press, 1984
Revised, 2014©





Tuesday, April 14, 2015

The single cloak




Stay put where I hung you
  above the door, my garlands.
  Don't hurry to shake your petals,
  watered by my tears.
Lovers' eyes rain easily. But when
  you see him open the door,
  let my rain drip on his head;
  that way at least
his blond hair will drink my tears.



 Sweet for the thirsty
 is a drink of snow in summer,
 and sweet for sailors to run before
 spring breezes at winter's end
 But sweeter still is the single cloak
 that hides two lovers as they honor
   Aphrodite.

 Drink. Asclepiades. Tears? What's
   the problem?
   You're hardly the only one
   Aphrodite plundered,
 Hardly the only one piercing Eros
   sighted with his sharpened
   bow and arrows. Still, alive
   why make your bed on ashes?




Let's drink what Bacchus
  offers undiluted. Day-
  light's a finger's
    distance away.
  Why wait for the lamp
  that signals a night's
  sleep?
Let's drink, sad lover. 
  Not far down the road,
  poor soul,
  we'll have an endless
  night to rest.








































Asclepiades of Samos
ca 300 - 270 BC
i, iii-iv  Edmund Keeley
  translation
ii  Bradley P. Nystrom
  translation
The Greek Poets
  Homer to the Present
op. cit.




Saturday, April 11, 2015

Last free day for a while?





  On the following day, we are
  promised a multi-media immer-
  sion in excuses for the most
  insatiable political ambition
  ever to be thrust upon one
  generation of Americans after
  another, until the last con-
  ceivable immunity to it has
  been wrung from the merest
  necessary plurality.

  I do not look forward to it,
  but as Rick said at the end
  of Casablanca, we'll always
  have this Saturday.



































Elliott Erwitt
1961