Sunday, July 5, 2015

Theatre in the wood

Mrs Clinton slipped into Hanover
on the 3rd, almost unannounced,
but even then drew a throng some
8 hundred strong, wearing red by
the wood at the Big Green. The
"Still for Hill" brigade fell in,
with immaculate precision, while
hamburgers emerged, under tents.

So often the nemesis of wretches
everywhere, Fate deserved credit
this time for the amends it made
in the form of poignant interven-
tion, by a child not strapped to
an IED, wandering through secur-
ity to claim a place on the bema,
the stone plinth where Dartmouth
guys used to trudge to collect
degrees. The odds, need we say,
of a child's wandering onto the
proscenium at her pronouncement
of the word for child, feminine,
by empathy of Fate alone, were
said to approximate the prospect
of her reprising this act at the
Bohemian Grove. Hamburgers and
lemonade might not pass security.

Somehow, we'll get through this.

Saturday, July 4, 2015

Put on a pretty record

  slogan of
  one's ear-
  ly years.

  I learned
  to miscon-
  strue Moz-
  art. That
  almost is

   Three years ago I was
   suddenly totally blind
   in one eye. My surgeon
   was from Syria and I
   would always ask after
   his family. He healed
   me and I don't see him

Yves Klein
Monochrome vert

Friday, July 3, 2015


         Separatists expressing
         Ukrainian Heritage one
         fine morning in Febru-
         ary. Look away, again.


Brendan Hoffman photo
Getty Images
The New York Times
February 15, 2015

We don't know what happens

   Possibly I am not alone in an
   inheritance from my father of
   a preference for a little less
   "truth and reconciliation" in
   "frank and open discussion" of
   shared catastrophe, than many
   propose today, possibly because
   of subjunctive and conditional
   constructions of speech we are
   given, to hedge our testimony.
   I respect the rigors of reti-
   cence, even more than the ec-
   stasies of complaint and con-
   fession. I trust their prize.

   Today would be the 101st birth-
   day of the only man my culture
   could countenance, after for-
   mative years, my having loved.

   Our private catastrophes, which
   were notable enough at the time,
   led us both to experience being
   witnesses to transition we were
   adapted to appraising only with
   amazement, and shared sorrow.

   People say, on the strength of
   a couple of speeches, that this
   culture is changing. As much as
   we have been educated to observe
   what did go wrong, in strangers
   of long ago, we tend to sense a
   disconnect from theories when we
   engage in each other's lives. An
   honest man reads Horace just this

   Moderation, reticence. I celeb-
   rate a father. This is his leg-
   acy, if one could claim it. Do
   go gentle, rage not against the
   dark. Arms are near. Open them.

Thursday, July 2, 2015

Project for the weekend

One is so soon bored
with a new shirt, it
seems wise to expect
to be, so we can get
at the root cause of
recurring disquiets.

 Inequality has still
 not been solved, and
 there's nothing like
 a weekend of liberty
 for making progress.

Wednesday, July 1, 2015

Gold magenta orange teal pink


Raghu Rai
  Monsoon, Mumbai

Promises we mightn't pursue i

   Well! What a sane suggestion.

   Yes, it was a slow wash cycle.
   The conspiracy against the gov-
   ernment of Greece, albeit count-
   ing its chickens already, aban-
   doned freshening the suspense,
   any longer. The New York Times,
   meanwhile, leapt valiantly into
   the breach, with a stunning sum-
   mary of stains, for declining 
   Governor Christie's offer to 
   serve the sentence he deserves, 
   from the White House.

   These circumstances left the on-
   line sidebar for that editorial
   free to strike a whimsical bal-
   ance, in the management of its
   advertisements. Who would not,
   now that you mention it, stand
   in to spread the truth about a
   candidate of such clothes? In
   a week when not a few people
   are remarking on convergences 
   in many dizzying fulfillments,
   this unusual presentation, not
   to mention the libertine slo-
   gan it rides in on, might have
   caught even the hip, napping.

   We adopt the assumption, not un-
   advisedly, that no one who can
   afford to present himself in a
   broadside at the Times, would 
   waste his money on a race own-
   ed by the Clinton Global Laun-
   dromat. Do we know this Weldon,
   and how much foreign pandering
   experience he has? Will his can-
   didacy penetrate the first tier
   for debate's sake? What element,
   if any, of a bribe seems to be
   missing, in this whole message?
   And yet, should we prosecute on
   technicalities, a platform for
   reconciling both sides on a pla-
   teau of comfort, which might in-
   volve no taxes?