Go Out in a Blaze of Glory |
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From Prof. Oddfellow's sketchbook: This item was wholly inspired by Jonathan Caws-Elwitt, in reference to Cynthia Ozick's amazing blurb for Frederic Tuten's Self Portraits: Fictions: "An amazing, glittering, glowing, Proustian, Conradian, Borgesian,
diamond-faceted, language-studded, myth-drowned dream!"
Barely Able writes: I loved this blurb flow chart. It reminds me of the paint swatches at WAL-MART, which are probably the most perfect thing in the store. Which makes me want to destroy them. Or rearrange their perfect order. This is a Luciferian impulse. Did Lucifer really want to destroy? Or did he want to merely re-arrange. En tout cas, it's clear that re-arrangement is a damnable offense. A primordial offense. Perhaps the Ur-Offense. What is literary criticism but an attempt to rearrange artistic works in an imaginary space. It's hilarious. The books stay right where they are put. But if the re-arranger is particularly successful he might have certain books banned or sent to book gulags (thrift stores or worse). In which case, the books find it hard to reproduce. And then they may go extinct. So, overall, I think God is right. He should destroy Satan for being the Great Interior Decorator that he so clearly is. Satan is all about fussiness. There is no sin that does not first begin in fussiness.
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Our 14th great-grandmother, Mary Sidney, Countess of Pembroke, has many distinctions, not the least of which is her likelihood of having written the Shakespeare plays and sonnets. (For compelling evidence, see Sweet Swan of Avon: Did a Woman Write Shakespeare?) In this photo, we embrace our literary heritage. The purple shirt and magic wand are in honor of the Irish branch of the family, which traces back to mytho-historical High Kings and fairy folk.
--- E West writes: Love the shirt!
That's a wand? Quite wonderful!
A Riverside Shakespeare? Are you near the Charles River?
"Sweet Swan of Avon: did a woman write Shakespeare?" -- oh, very sweet, indeed! Bravo!
--- Prof. Oddfellow writes: Thank you! The purple shirt reflects the hefty
responsibility that comes with owning one’s exalted heritage. When one's ancestors are of royal
and/or magical origin, some rather profound questions
and challenges suggest themselves. To what crown(ing
glory) is one the natural successor?
To what dignities? What
traditions are one's responsibility to keep alive? What untapped powers?
If one's Weltanschauung does not account for an Otherworld, how can one
reconcile one's nymph-glands? ;-) The Riverside Shakespeare was my favorite text from graduate school. (It's the book I referenced while composing this rarefied research.) I'm not near the Charles River, though I understand it's quite lovely.
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From Prof. Oddfellow's sketchbook: Gary Barwin suggests that death's favorite punctuation mark is the exclamation point: "the jot, a single moment, its long black robe fluttering behind." We suggest that death's second favorite is the question mark.
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Heinrich Füger, "Prometheus Brings Fire to Mankind," c. 1817
"[ William Blake's] vision of the infinite in everything is common to East and West; what is distinctly Western, out of the Jews, is the voice of honest indignation against every institution which would deny or demean the infinity within each human soul. The release of our full human potential—to let the light of Prometheus shine everywhere—is the distinctly Western mystic tradition and does not appear in Hinduism, Buddhism, Taoism, or any Eastern religion." — Robert Anton Wilson, Prometheus Rising
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William Keckler offers "Somewhat Belated Advice for Marie Antoinette":
Don't dress or coif onself too much like a turkey amidst millions of starving French peasants, as one might just get treated like one.
We would add: When plastering the walls with jewels, substitute cut glass for diamonds. You'll get tons of sparkle as you help to ease the deterioration of the financial situation in France.
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We're honored that poet William Keckler crowns us the "best blogger and net presence. Period." Take in the extent of his full praise here. We couldn't be more humbled by this defining moment! Like Lyndon Johnson, we ask the social network for a mandate—not just to keep things going, but to begin.
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Silesius of Rhodes writes:
I believe it was the Emperor Nero who said, "Eat it up, baby. Lick it up." Amour-propre is, as Martha will remind us, a good thing. Kudos. I have compiled the largest library on conchology this side of Asia Minor, and has this Keckler creature deigned to acknowledge it? Hell nawl! Thalassic Ignoramus! Anyway, keep up the thaumaturgy and all that, Craig. You know how we philosophers like to be amused when we're not doing SERIOUS work. xo Silesius
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