Monday Morning Staff Meeting – The Pleasure Of Ruins


42912b9ceRuin porn from the nineteenth century until today, brought to you by Shelley, Turner, Ruskin, (Henry) James and others.

The daughter of one of my favorite poets!

Creativity and schizophrenia.

Books are histories and archaeologies.

Memorize poems. It’s healthy and it tastes good.

No. Seriously. Memorize poems.

Oh my gosh! I have to visit this museum!

Good recommendations do not come cheap.

Weekend Reading – Lost Arts


The value of memorizing (and sometimes even reciting) poetry.

Cool! He designed one of my favorite spots in Tampa!

Poetry publishers, poetry MFA programs, poetry reviewers (do they still exist? is that a real job? can I have it?), and poetry award givers all appear to be significantly less sexist as the rest of the (male dominated) publishing world.

Ancient mystery solved. Everyone go home now.

I don’t actually remember seeing all that much street art in Thailand. But LA? Yeah. Tons of it. Great stuff. Sometimes. You know.

Chicago Modernism.

 

Farley Mowat Passed Away


When I was child, my mother read Never Cry Wolf to me as my bed time book (The Hobbit was also a memorable such book).

Its author, Farly Mowat, died.

After my mother read Never Cry Wolf, I went out and read Mowat’s A Whale for the Killing, about a whale trapped in a small bay.

Never Cry Wolf was a great freaking book and reading about the wolf ‘family’ he followed, tracked, and imitated was amazing.

I suppose one can’t be sad that Mowat passed. He was 92 and I imagine led a rich life. But I will be sad about some of the losses in Never Cry Wolf.

Midweek Staff Meeting – I Don’t Like Him Either


o-AMBER-570It’s true – it’s hard to like Cyclops.

You can deny workers raises and give that money to CEOs instead, but in Cali, that could cost you.

Fools! Children do not need to know poetry!

In case you had no idea what I did for a living, I worked on these two organizing campaigns.

Pretty cool, right?

Paper is still the best (for in depth comprehension, anyway).

Weekend Reading – Don’t Feed The Poet


Poet. Fascist. Teacher. Crazy dude. Maybe.

I only knew him as Flann. I had no idea it was pseudonym, until now.

What would the Futurists think of this future?

Brains! Brains! Brains!

For theology, read poetry.

Midweek Staff Meeting – Naptime


Rizzoli-BookstoreThis article contains the most useful map of Washington, DC that you will ever encounter.

This is a fantastic bookstore and I’ve found some incredibly interesting books there and it’s always on my list of places to visit when I’m in NYC, so it would be a terrible shame if were to close.

Some great ways to celebrate National Poetry Month that will also make your more employable. I’m not kidding.

How is this not blowing people’s minds? Or is it? It’s blowing my mind, I know that. The BLACK PLAGUE OF THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY WAS NOT THE BUBONIC PLAGUE BUT SOMETHING ELSE. That’s right. It was some kind of pneumonia thing spread by sneezing and not something with pus filled pustules spread by rats and fleas. Holy cow, Batman! I’m not kidding. This upends a lot of what I used to think I knew. And what about Camus’ novel, La Peste? How do you say sneeze in French? Le Sneeze? Should that be the new title? OMG!

Midweek Staff Meeting – My Blood Is Superior


Lotl_-_The_Sleestak_God_002

Just give it up already. You’ll be healthier.

I could write on a train. In fact, I’m pretty sure I already have. So. You know. Call me.

Is poetry not literature, but something else? Was it, but is no longer?

The honest answer is: maybe?

I don’t know. All of them?

What we can learn from Schiller about the beautiful. It’s not mentioned, but Elaine Scarry wrote a great book on beauty, called On Beauty and Being Just and I recommend that. I honestly haven’t read the Schiller book in question. I don’t actually think I’ve read any Schiller, unless you count the chorus to Beethoven’s Ninth. My local public radio station has taken to playing just the second movement of the Ninth. That’s like half a handjob. I mean, yeah, it feels good, but without the finale, I’d really rather you didn’t even start it.

I Was Almost Cast As A Time Machine Crank


The-Time-Machine-PosterThat title probably requires some explanation, but I also think it holds up on its own as an incident my family would not see as being all that unlikely. I’m not saying that one Easter, they wrote down their top ten “Things that will probably happen to Christoper before he dies or is put in solitary by Nurse Ratchet” and that this was on that list, but more they say, well, yeah, that makes sense.

I was contacted by a casting agent, who was looking for people some sort of faux reality tv thing, because he had been led to believe that I was building a time machine in my garage.

I know what you’re thinking: Christopher doesn’t have a garage! He depends on street parking!

You’re also thinking, like my family, that the time machine is not unlikely. Now, you don’t think I’m building a working time machine, you just think I finally cracked and am using plans given to me by Nikolas Tesla, which he secretly writes in invisible ink on paper napkins from the napkin dispensary on booth four of the Waffle House on US 19, near Countryside Mall. You think that’s why I won’t throw out the napkins on the floor of my car. And you’re not entirely wrong, however, I am not actually building a time machine.

When I was contacted, I rather suspected that a mistake had been made and that the casting agent believed he had found some crank.

This was confirmed when he gingerly asked, hey, before we speak, I understand that you’re building a time machine in your garage… um, how’s that going?

I felt that I had to admit at that point, that no, I am not.

But this also feels like a cool segue into quantum entanglement.

It’s been a banner year for quantum mechanics — a set of researchers just published a result that purports to show that quantum entanglement bridges both space-like AND time-like distances (e.g. the entangled pair can communicate across time.) They claim to have entangled one photon with a second photon which had been destroyed before the entanglement procedure began.

That was part of a lengthier conversation with a friend, and while the focus was on what the potential loss of the certainty entropy meant for what little certainty he felt like he had in life, it’s also kind of cool, because that’s a kind of time travel, isn’t it? Entanglement with something that only existed in the past?

The earlier conversation had been about how the universe, in certain contemporary models, appears perfectly static from the outside, but new models explains how that can be the case and still be in constant, roiling change. Basically, an outside observer would see a static, unchanging universe and anyone with the universe would see something quite dynamic. Sort simultaneously giving hope to both Parmenides and Heraclitus (his first thoughts were of Parmenides and mine of Heraclitus… any psychological insights from that, people?).

Because he’s more of science-y type and I’m more of a humanties-y type, we went in different directions. Mine was that this could provide an intellectual model for a better understanding of how a god could be omniscient in a universe where humanity has free will. But that’s a whole ‘nother conversation.

In the meantime, I will not be appearing on television, showing off my time machine.

And, in case you’re wondering… this the blog post that convinced them that I was building a time machine: https://coffeephilosopher.com/2012/07/05/im-building-my-time-machine-for-real-this-time/

Weekend Reading – Intentional Lives


Tintern Abbey
Tintern Abbey

In hard times, it is good to turn to Wordsworth, the most boring and most satisfying of the Romantic poets.

Is the monastic life the way past late capitalism?

Reading poetry naturally leads to introspection. I didn’t really need a brain scan to know that, but it’s nice to be shown right. After all, reading poetry is a slower, more thoughtful process. Maybe that’s the difference. A collection of poetry is rarely very long. Most of the contemporary collections I have are under one hundred and fifty pages, but you can’t breeze through them like a Mickey Spillane novel. You have to move at the speed of the poet’s pen (some poets compose faster than others, it is certain). But what happens when you read poetry is ineffably different than when you read prose. And no, being able to brain scan it doesn’t make it effable. Did you see what I did there? Effable. That makes for a kind of sex joke, too. Doing double duty.


creationism-plow