Saunders Lewis breaks my heart.

Even in translation.

About women no one can know. There are some,
Like this one, whose pain is a locked sepulchre;
Their pain is buried in them, there is no fleeing
From it and no casting it off. No ebb
Nor tide of their pain, a dead sea without
Movement upon its depth. Who--is there anyone--
Who will take away the stone from this sepulchre?
--Saunders Lewis, "Mair Fadlen"
(trans. Gwyn Thomas)

Don't call me Mrs. Smith.

After Senior Night:

Garett: "I'm sure that in whatever horrible universe it would take for you two to wake up in the morning and find yourselves married to one another...she would keep her last name."

The View from Aber

Hester: So it's a big Christmas dinner, without Christmas. I think that's a brilliant idea.


Happy Thanksgiving, All.

This Linkage is Especially Dedicated to Steph*

So, um, yeah. I have no explanation for this.

Please note: "I can turn these into ornaments (no additional fee) upon request." I repeat: Um, yeah.**


And this one, which I promise isn't Japanese nor crocheted nor of poop, especially dedicated to my particular favorite Bostonian.





____
* Because she'll think it's hilarious and send it to her brother, not because she reminds me of smiling crocheted... um, yeah.
**Mordu, this might be your cue for another "I'm so glad I'm Jewish."

I forgot how slow writing is.

I've already sent many of you this quote, but here's the advice my dear mother told her Creative Writing students:

"Even if you don't like what's coming out, start writing as if you were starting a brisk walk trying to get somewhere."

My father's advice was somewhat different.
"Lower your standards. You're a perfectionist, like I am."
"It's not my standards. I'm bored of it."
"Hm. Maybe you should go out for a drink."

I know I had something else to say here, butI forgot what it was.

Sittin' on Bartlett Quad in the Sun,

readin' Sallust.

Alice: I'm not good at anything anymore!
[punch]
Neil: The floggings will continue until morale improves!

The sound effect we're looking for is "uggh..."

Like a child on Halloween candy, I think I overdid it on today's election results.

Time for me to stop reading the New York Times online and read some medieval biblical exegesis.





P.S. "If he were dying, he wouldn't have taken the time to write 'aargh,' he would have just said it."
P.P.S. "Perhaps he was dictating."

Oh, just let me be an unabashed liberal for a bit...

because you all know in your hearts that I'm not politically conservative, no matter who my friends are.

Tom: Is Nancy Pelosi your representative?
Alice: Yeah.
Tom: Congratulations! You have the new House Majority Leader.

Yeah, so I think that I'm more happy about the House than I am depressed about our inability to produce a viable challenger to Arnold "The Gubernator" Schwarzenegger. Unfortunately, because of a frustrating mix-up with my absentee ballot, I wasn't able to vote against him. Nor was I able to vote against him in the recall, when my ballot got lost in the mail. Tom* offered to make me a fake ballot just so I could get my frustration out, but he apparently decided that it was overkill.




______
*People, meet Tom. Say "Hi, Tom." Tom, meet people. Tom will be making further appearances in this blog, and that's all I'm going to say about that.

Oh, it's going to be one of *those* days.

(11:00 am, today)

Alice: I hate Wednesdays.
Dan R: It's Tuesday.
Alice: Right. I hate them, too.

It's the Fifth of November...

And I direct you here for the 1917 Catholic Encyclopedia's coverage thereof.

In other Catholic news, the four "Golden Calves" described here are extremely pertinent to some of the discussions we've been having about Calvert House (and the American Catholic Church in general). I'll just quote the three most pertinent here.

Politicized faith -- "I can look back also and see that my own intellectual pride helped me build a weak foundation for my faith. When I converted to Catholicism in 1992 . . . it was a sincere Christian conversion. But I also took on as my own all the cultural and intellectual trappings of the American Catholic right."

Churchcraft as a hobby -- "I had become the sort of Catholic who thought preoccupying himself with Church controversies and Church politics was the same thing as preoccupying himself with Christ. Me and my friends would go on for hours and hours about what was wrong with the Church, and everything we had to say was true. But if you keep on like that, it will have its effect."

Clericalism -- "Without quite realizing what was happening, I became a Professional Catholic, and got so caught up in identifying with the various controversies in the American church that I began to substitute that for an authentic spirituality. This is nobody's fault but my own. Part of that involved hero-worshipping Pope John Paul II, and despite having a healthy awareness of the sins and failings of various bishops, exaggerating the virtues of bishops my side deemed 'orthodox.'"

From Kevin Knight writing about Rod Dreher's article on his conversion to Eastern Orthodoxy.

A Well-Nigh Perfect Brunch

Tea, Vanessa's Cheesy Tomato Eggs (which, I must confess, I make in a heterodox manner, with garlic, salt, pepper, and cheddar cheese), and Ian's "Better than Homework" mix. Oh, and Celtic Hagiography and Saint's Cults, ed. Jane Cartwright.

AS FOR THE FORMAL: I'd like to go on record saying that I did not say (as Neil claims) "I make medieval studies look sexy." What I did say was, "Medievalists dress up well", which was a statement inclusive of Neil's Zoot Suit.

One thing that was said:
Carolyn: It's Bill's song!
Alice: We have to find Bill!
Carolyn: Well, they're all Bill's songs. Bill's real song is "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy."
Alice: Hm.
Carolyn: I don't think that they're going to play "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy."

I quote things in other languages, too.

Mae James wedi gofyn os dw i'n cofio "Cymdeithas Yr Iaith...y grwp dw i wedi ymuno a yn yr Eisteddfod, nid y Sandinistas, a llall."

Felly, dw i'n ateb:


^
fy nghyfrifiadur i.

Dw i'n gwybod mod i'n ddim yn gallu siarad cymraed fel y pobol yn Cymdeithas Yr Iaith, ond dw i'n hoffi ateb cwestionau am cymraeg pan mae pobol yn gofyn am y sticer.

Ugh.

One of those mornings of utter exhaustion and a 9:00 am class.

Lucky for me, I can talk about the Saints in my sleep.

And quite possibly do.