Thursday, June 30, 2016

Drive safely

Any moment, now, our lifeguards
of the roadways will be lectur-
ing us on the casualty rates in
the American approach to holi-
days. Leaving aside mechanical
mishap - not the wisest thing
to do, considering manufactur-
ers' rates of afterthinking the
devices they sell us - the risk
seems to lie in an approach to
destinations tending to suggest
an ambivalence toward arrival.
How often a bunker reveals this.

    Did one really want to play
    this course, anyway? How many
    of the tee's best drivers must
    have mulled the sobering ques-
    tion this month in Pennsylvania.
    I never like to ignore an Open
    at Oakmont; but I would equally
    seldom like to remember it for
    the Church Pews, ingenious if
    somewhat ostentatious penalty
    ports for poor driving, divid-
    ing the 3rd and 4th holes. They
    call to mind the wiser, more be-
    nign siren call of discretion as
    the finer point of holiday val-
    or, You can always crash here.

    To watch poor Trump's embarrass-
    ing unraveling in Scotland, hail-
    ing the misgovernance of impul-
    sive plebiscite as a personal
    advantage to him, was enough to
    to reinforce the dignity, even
    the comparatively noble vision, 
    of mastering where to flop.

Wednesday, June 29, 2016

Origins of Wednesday xxxi: Layers, every moment

   I don't wish to challenge the doc-
   trine of living in the moment as a
   recipe for some vitality of consci-
   ousness. I do wish to commemorate,
   on the other hand, the many layers
   of which one is conscious, in that
   consciousness, of diverse moments,
   occurring simultaneously. Notice a
   guy, exploiting a tablet in traver-
   sing a court, the shadow axis of a
   roofline of tiles meticulously con-
   tinuing the grouting in the bricks
   behind him, as shadow intersects a
   corner of his plinth, an arm exten-
   ded as if the conductor who he is,
   were orchestrating the light about
   him. How does he wish to progress?


   It's when one feels this way, that
   Summer's dispensation of time sug-
   tance to Marcel Proust. Yet, this,
   too, is but one consideration con-
   tending companionably in the mind,
   even as a harbinger, sometimes, of
   its antitheses' alluring elements.
   Besides, we've cited an engagement

   I don't mean to dispute the wisdom
   of living in the moment; I'd only,
   rather, propose living for all the
   moment's constituents. The moments
   teem with their appeals, roil with
   precious or capricious claims; and
   the genius of Summer is to sustain
   their percolation in our conscious-
   ness, every layer contributing its
   necessary suggestions to the score
   we know we are composing as we go.

   All this churns my obvious reverie
   as a pursuit of mussed time, as in
   all things, up to a point. If Sum-
   mer is not the essential splash of
   light upon this conduct, between 2
   axial shadows, of past and future,
   then I misunderstand the riches of
   living in the moment. But I do not
   feel alone.

i  Raymond Dépardon photo

Tuesday, June 28, 2016

Stonewall sempervirens

A friend of mine, to whom 
I dedicate this comment, 
reminded me this afternoon,
the 28th of June is Stone-
wall Day. He and I weren't
there; he says, he was in
hiding. I said, I'd not e-
ven learned what to hide.

National Park status is a
little premature, if that
is expected to acknowledge
the nation's embrace of a
setting. We say, This can't
happen again, at great per-
il of under-estimating the
inventiveness of prurience.

It now has a candidate for
the White House, who is so
discomfited by sex that he
can't stop discussing it -
inflaming its frustration,
and corrupting its energy.
We know how to be sad for
such a person. But then at
Stonewall, we found how not 
to be with him. 

Machine for growing

My college introduced me to the
architect, Michael Graves, when
I was exploring resources in an
intimate library, on the second
floor of the School. A more sty-
lish proponent of style seldom,
if ever, glided in and out with
his entourage of well-distract-
ed glances. "Michael" was among
the most admired junior figures
in an environment dedicated al-
most too fortunately to growing
them, in vintage after vintage.

In Vers une architecture (1923)
Le Corbusier produced more epi-
grams per page than any of that
legion of imitators whom we ap-
preciate for exactly his nerve.
A machine for living, has every
day thereafter been the critic-
al standard for appraising dom-
estic architecture. Here is the
entry to Michael Graves' resid-
ence in Princeton. It is now to
become the property of a new, a
different school for growing up
in architecture, and I am sorry
that my college turned it down,
in an act of mislaying the true
verve of inspiring personality,
in the growth of our inquiries.

Monday, June 27, 2016


       Perfidy so vast
       as to lose a na-
       tion on the pre-
       text of popular
       will, for parti-
       san reasons, is
       rather like our
       habit over here
       of secessionism.

       But who could i-
       magine being im-
       itated beyond a
       sense of shame?

Sunday, June 26, 2016

Find the place

    How often I've resorted to luxury,
    or wilderness or harshly strenuous
    pastimes, when one could always've
    cultivated composure in oneself to
    impart that remedy to a place fre-
    quented by others, of that custom.

    To all such places, just come out.

Tuesday, June 21, 2016

Donald Trump went to Texas last week

Albert Herring, eat your heart out.

The homecoming queen went trolling
for loot in River Oaks, and barbar-
ous thrills in rally after rally of
famished sociopaths. Along the way,
he warned the squeamish to shut up,
advising he would do this himself;
revoked the free press credentials
of the essential morning paper for
everyone in government, from coast
to coast; promised to decapitate
the laws of libel in protection of
political expression; and celebrat-
ed a dominance of his Party which
saw the Speaker of the House chang-
ing his diaper at every interview.
Apart from the latter's discomfort,
these are acts of pure despotism.

  But wasn't he yar to his
  enthusiasts, and positive
  catnip still to a media
  bedazzled, It could hap-
  pen here. Everyone who
  wasn't raised, 24/7, on
  Crisco, sugar, and salt,
  Fox, and Koch casuists,
  professed to be baffled.
  But we scarcely possess
  an excuse. We cordially
  begged to differ with
  friends who indulged the
  lies of Trump's Party so
  long, we consoled each
  other with their ingen-
  uity in controlling the
  attack dogs they'd bred.
  And now, It has happened
  here. Their Mengelian ex-
  periment has whelped their
  Caudillo, indifferent to
  catechism, in raw control.

     Wasn't everyone warned at home,
     a soul bears a responsibility?

     Donald Trump has let it loose,

     The ultimate horror of Trump
     is not for whom he reviles, but
     for those who love him. There,
     is the greatest crime politics
     can commit. It's happened here.

Monday, June 20, 2016

They tell me, this is our longest day

      the edible substance is without
      a precious heart, without a bur-
      ied power, without a vital sec-
      ret .. to eat is but to select.

Roland Barthes
Empire of Signs
  Food Decentered
Richard Howard
Hill & Wang
Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1982©