One has just been sent out as a biblical dove, has found nothing green, and slips back
into the darkness of the ark -- Kafka

Monday, July 31, 2017

"Clips" from Wolfgang Streeck's HOW WILL CAPITALISM END?

Not much on politics or economics (other than the small circle of Home). Still, with so many friends and relatives "hammering" and "clamoring" about the mess we're in, I took up Wolfgang Streeck to see if he could make any sense of it all. Anyway, I'm plodding along -- in between my preferred "literary" stuff -- and there's lots of "clipping," though I'll only post a small sample (two today, more as I go ...).


The end of capitalism can then be imagined as a death from a thousand cuts, or from a multiplicity of infirmities each of which will be all the more untreatable as all will demand treatment at the same time.
Since 2008, we have lived in a fourth stage of the post-1970s crisis sequence, and the by now familiar dialectic of problems treated with solutions that turn into problems themselves is again making itself felt. The three apocalyptic horsemen of contemporary capitalism –stagnation, debt, inequality –are continuing to devastate the economic and political landscape.

Melville "Clip" from "Benito Cereno"

"Clip" from very end of "Benito Cereno":

During the passage, Don Benito did not visit him. Nor then, nor at any time after, would he look at him. Before the tribunal he refused. When pressed by the judges he fainted. On the testimony of the sailors alone rested the legal identity of Babo. Some months after, dragged to the gibbet at the tail of a mule, the black met his voiceless end. The body was burned to ashes; but for many days, the head, that hive of subtlety, fixed on a pole in the Plaza, met, unabashed, the gaze of the whites; and across the Plaza looked towards St. Bartholomew's church, in whose vaults slept then, as now, the recovered bones of Aranda: and across the Rimac bridge looked towards the monastery, on Mount Agonia without; where, three months after being dismissed by the court, Benito Cereno, borne on the bier, did, indeed, follow his leader.

Sunday, July 30, 2017

Home Is Where You Hang Your Hat & Every Poet Is A Jew

Back in Long Beach. Woke roughly my usual time (I have a built in alarm clock but I won't name it) and did roughly my usual things: coffee shop, walking, working out, groceries. Now perhaps experiencing a touch of jetlag.





Friday, July 28, 2017

Thursday, July 27, 2017

"Clips" from Meville's Stories

Read most of Hemingway's stories, especially those connected to Michigan but also some old faves, e.g., "A Clean, Well-Lighted Place." Now am rereading some Melville. Started with "Billy Budd" and am now picking through The Piazza Tales.


From "Billy Budd":

The Pharisee is the Guy Fawkes prowling in the hid chambers underlying the Claggarts. And they can really form no conception of an unreciprocated malice.


Bluntly put, a chaplain is the minister of the Prince of Peace serving in the host of the God of War — Mars. As such, he is as incongruous as a musket would be on the altar at Christmas. Why then is he there? Because he indirectly subserves the purpose attested by the cannon; because too he lends the sanction of the religion of the meek to that which practically is the abrogation of everything but brute Force.


From "The Piazza":

Pausing at the threshold, or rather where threshold once had been, I saw, through the open door-way, a lonely girl, sewing at a lonely window. A pale-cheeked girl, and fly-specked window, with wasps about the mended upper panes. I spoke. She shyly started, like some Tahiti girl, secreted for a sacrifice, first catching sight, through palms, of Captain Cook. Recovering, she bade me enter; with her apron brushed off a stool; then silently resumed her own. With thanks I took the stool; but now, for a space, I, too, was mute. This, then, is the fairy-mountain house, and here, the fairy queen sitting at her fairy window.

Tuesday, July 25, 2017

Re Errant Pubs

Found this image while googling around yesterday. Only evidence I have that my "Acts of an Apostle" was ever published. :) Seems the little mag is now defunct.


Monday, July 24, 2017

Keats's Letters + Hemingway's Michigan

Finished Keats somewhere in the UP and started Hemingway's short stories in Boyne City, not far from Horton Bay.


To  Richard Woodhouse

Wentworth Place, Friday Morn [December 18, 1818].

     My dear Woodhouse — I am greatly obliged to you. I must needs feel flattered by making an impression on a set of ladies. I should be content to do so by meretricious romance verse, if they alone, and not men, were to judge. I should like very much to know those ladies — though look here, Woodhouse — I have a new leaf to turn over: I must work; I must read; I must write. I am unable to afford time for new acquaintances. I am scarcely able to do my duty to those I have. Leave the matter to chance. But do not forget to give my remembrances to your cousin.

Yours most sincerely John Keats.


If what I have said should not be plain enough, as I fear it may not be, I will put you in the place where I began in this series of thoughts — I mean I began by seeing how man was formed by circumstances — and what are circumstances but touchstones of his heart? and what are touchstones but provings of his heart, but fortifiers or alterers of his nature? and what is his altered nature but his Soul? — and what was his Soul before it came into the world and had these provings and alterations and perfectionings? — An intelligence without Identity — and how is this Identity to be made? Through the medium of the Heart? and how is the heart to become this Medium but in a world of Circumstances? There now I think what with Poetry and Theology, you may thank your stars that my pen is not very long-winded. Yesterday I received two Letters from your Mother and Henry, which I shall send by young Birkbeck with this.


From Hemingway's "The Last Good Country":

"Did you ever come here with anyone else?”

“No. Only by myself.”

“And you weren’t afraid?”

“No. But I always feel strange. Like the way I ought to feel in church.”

“Nickie, where we’re going to live isn’t as solemn as this, is it?”

“No. Don’t you worry. There it’s cheerful. You just enjoy this, Littless. This is good for you. This is the way forests were in the olden days. This is about the last good country there is left. Nobody gets in here ever.”

“I love the olden days. But I wouldn’t want it all this solemn.”

“It wasn’t all solemn. But the hemlock forests were.”

“It’s wonderful walking. I thought behind our house was wonderful. But this is better. Nickie, do you believe in God? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t know.”

“All right. You don’t have to say it. But you don’t mind if I say my prayers at night?”

“No. I’ll remind you if you forget.”

“Thank you. Because this kind of woods makes me feel awfully religious.”

“That’s why they build cathedrals to be like this.”

“You’ve never seen a cathedral, have you?”

"No. But I’ve read about them and I can imagine them. This is the best one we have around here.”

“Do you think we can go to Europe some time and see cathedrals?”

“Sure we will. But first I have to get out of this trouble and learn how to make some money.”

“Do you think you’ll ever make money writing?”

“If I get good enough.”

“Couldn’t you maybe make it if you wrote cheerfuller things? That isn’t my opinion. Our mother said everything you write is morbid.”

MacCready's: Pine Island Plus: 7.24.17











Saturday, July 22, 2017

MacCready's: 7.22.17










Tuesday, July 18, 2017

Monday, July 17, 2017

White Sox vs. Mariners

Just something else to do in the Windy City. Nice cool day and we had a great seat (little past 1st base).




Chicago's Museum of Contemporary Art