Antarctica: It's Cold There.

This is a picture of orcas in Antarctica. (That actually might be a good Potential Band Name: Orcas In Antarctica.) The water is cold. The ice is cold. The orcas probably aren't cold, because they have blubber, but I am cold today because I wore the new spring leggings-and-skirt-combo. So we have a cold picture.

Thursday's Word:

crapulence.
(noun): A state of extreme drunkenness.
Origin: mid 17th century, from late Latin crapulentus 'very drunk,' from Latin crapula 'inebriation,' from Greek kraipale 'drunken headahce.'

No, I did not make this up. The blog was getting a little too Buddhist. We needed a crapulent* entry today. (Here's a good site to learn more exotic--but not necessarily crapulent--words.)

*adjective: of or relating to the drinking of alcohol or drunkenness.

Buddhist Thought, For Free

Firstly, I must apologize if the Chairman scared anyone. (Sorry, Anonymous.) Thinking about it, nothing's more vaguely threatening than a cat head on a famous Communist's body. I'll stick to the cute cat pictures.

A work project has had me researching various mindfulness/peace-promoting/Buddhist/hippy/Chicken-Soup-
For-The-Soul-Who-Really-Can't-Eat-Another-Spoonful,
-Thank-You-Anyway websites, including Salt Lake's own Kanzeon Zen Center. And I apologize if any readers are members of the Kanzeon sangha (see? research!) who might be offended, but 1.) they have a trademarked path to enlightenment and 2.) every step on the path to enlightenment comes with a suggested donation. And while 1.) I understand that the center operates with donations and 2.) I really don't know enough about Zen Buddhism to argue, it just seems a little, well, grasping.

Which is why we can all turn to Better Living Through Literature and get free quotes from the Buddha, scary cat pictures, and misremembered bits of poems! (A lot are in my head, but there are some I have to find at home in the evenings.) Here's today's:

Sit.
Rest.
Work.
Alone with yourself,
Never weary,
At the edge of the forest,
Live joyfully,
Without desire.
Buddha

Office Snack Of The Last Two Days That I Just Finished Eating This Morning: lemon-ginger cookies.

The Chairman Wishes You a Happy Tuesday:

Chairman MEOW, of course.
(Image courtesy of the talented Miss Smith.)

A Quote and Another Blog

I picked two early hyacinths yesterday (one for me, one for my roommate) and could smell them all night, which reminded me (of course) of a passage in Middlemarch, which is a brilliant book.

"...subtle as the memory of hyacinths which perfumed the darkness."

And I found a new favorie blog to read every day. It criticizes celebrities' outfits, which doesn't sound very promising, but the writing is wickedly funny. I've narrowly avoided choking on my coffee in the mornings, reading it.
http://gofugyourself.typepad.com/

Today's Word:

esculent
1. adjective: fit to be eaten; edible.
2. noun: a thing, esp. a vegetable, that can be eaten.

I love a word that especially applies to vegetables.

The Bug Poem

It turns out I misremembered yesterday's poem (not the haiku, the other one). It's by Ginsberg (in the middle, above; Neal Cassidy is second from left) and I first read it in The Little Zen Companion. Yes, I own The Little Zen Companion. I'll admit it.

What's this little brown insect
walking zig-zag
across the sunny white page
of Su Tung-po's poem?
Fly away, tiny mite, even your life
is tender--
I lift the book and blow you into
the dazzling void.

Catch and Release

We have a catch-and-release policy regarding insect life at the apartment. (And, although I have a feeling that my roommate disregards this policy when I'm not around to enforce it, it's usually pretty well-observed. With the exception of earwigs, who get no mercy.) It's exactly what you think--if we see a spider, for instance, out comes a glass and a magazine and we try to trap the spider, get it in the glass, and then release it, all without letting the spider touch us or get squished. It makes life exciting.

Years ago I read this poem and it stuck with me, popping into my mind every time I killed a spider, which is why I catch and release today. I don't remember the source--I think Gary Snyder, via some Buddhist hippy quote collection--but I will find out tonight.

...fly away, tiny mite, even your life is precious.
I lift the book and blow you into the dazzling void.

Which of course echoes the Issa haiku from 200 years before:

Don't kill him!
The fly wrings its hands,
Its feet.

(Yes, there is even a literary take on killing bugs.)

Happy Belated Vernal Equinox

I never had a chance to post yesterday, so I'll make up for it today with some real highbrow literature. This is Virginia Woolf, from the middle section of To The Lighthouse, titled, appropriately enough, "Time Passes." I think of it whenever, well, time passes.

But what, after all, is one night? A short space, especially when the darkness dims so soon, and so soon a bird sings, a cock crows, or a faint green quickens, like a turning leaf, in the hollow of a wave.

Never made it to the demolition derrby over the weekend. However, there will be chariot races this Saturday and Sunday, at the same arena (Golden Spike). Why we don't all move to Ogden, I don't know--they have derbys, chariot races, refineries, trains.

Why Pirates Are Superior:

I mean, really. A pirate would knock a leprechaun silly, steal his pot of gold, and go drink rum.
Which would you rather celebrate?

Important Information

I thought it would be more fun to sleep last night than to immerse myself in literature, but I do have some information to share. Like literature, I think this is important.

1.) There is a demolition derby this Saturday at 7:00 in historic Ogden. It's at the Golden Spike Arena. I will be there, maybe with C. and M., maybe with The Lovely Susannah.

2.) Here is a recipe for ship's biscuits. You can make these before your next voyage and they will keep a long time. They will not, however, be delicious. (Recipe from the Royal Naval Museum.)

Add water to 1lb wholemeal flour and 1/4oz salt to make a stiff dough. Leave for 1/2 hour and then roll out very thickly. Separate in to 5 or 7 biscuits. Bake in a hot oven approx. 420 degrees F for 30 minutes. The biscuits should then be left undisturbed in a warm dry atmosphere to harden and dry out.

Today, I am wearing a headscarf like a pirate, provoking all sorts of Piratical Phrases Uttered. Yar!
(Missing a picture? I couldn't decide on just one. Go here. Waste no time. You won't be diasppointed.)

What Going to Work Was Like Today:

Dombey & Son

I was in a Dickens mood about three weeks ago, went to the main library, and came home with Dombey and Son, which is a later one. I'm about 200 pages into it and getting my Dickens fix (there are lots of descriptions of somber parlors, a "flaxen-haired" little girl, and someone young has just died), but most people I've talked to (okay, only three people, but that's most of my accquaintance) have never heard of Dombey and Son. I had, distantly, and realized last night it was mentioned by Salinger in Franny and Zooey. I love the italics, so it's the quote for the day. (A quote from literature, about literature! It's a good day.) This is Franny speaking, near the end:

"He said he was--this is exactly what he said--he said he was sitting at the table in the kitchen, all by himself, drinking a glass of ginger ale and eating saltines and reading 'Dombey and Son,' and all of a sudden Jesus sat down in the other chair and asked if he could have a small glass of ginger ale. A small glass, mind you--that's exactly what he said. I mean he says things like that, and yet he thinks he's perfectly qualified to give me a lot of advice and stuff!"

So every time I think or read "Dombey and Son," it comes out Dombey.

Kitties!

Because literature has nothing on a kitten. (And because I forgot the book from which I was going to quote today.) Also check out kittenwar.com.

Will It Stop Snowing?

It's typical late-winter bi-polar weather, and, while it's only March, I thought this was appropriate:

April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire...

This is, of course, the opening of T.S. Eliot's The Wasteland and is the only part most people (myself included) really get. There is a good annotated version online here, if you're feeling scholarly. (Should have majored in English...)

Late-Night Dylan

It's not that late, actually, but "Visions of Johanna" was in my head and seemed appropriate to quote here. (Hey, it's officially the weekend now. I don't have to try as hard to be clever.) Dylan fans, listen to the acoustic version of this from the 1966 Royal Albert Hall concert. Excellent.

"Ain't it just like the night
to play tricks when you're trying to be so quiet?
We sit here stranded,
though we're all doing our best to deny it.
And Louise holds a handful of rain,
tempting you to defy it.
Lights flicker in the opposite loft;
in this room the heat pipes just cough;
the country music station plays soft
but there's nothing, really nothing, to turn off..."

Less, More

I'm afraid today's post will be short, as we're all trying to wrap things up so we can goof off later:

"Avoid adjectives of scale.
You will love the world more
and desire it less."
Basho


I first came across this in a Robert Hass poem, from Human Wishes. (I'm afraid I can't rememeber which poem. But it's in there.)
Office Snack of the Day: Hazelnut biscotti. I made them, first toasting the hazelnuts.

Hemingway on Potato Salad

Yesterday's Office Snack of the Day, potato salad, sparked a discussion in the office on the merits of French potato salad, prepared with a vinaigrette, versus American potato salad, prepared with mayo and mustard. We concluded our versions of American potato salad were inferior to our mothers' versions, but that the French versions (pommes de terre a l'huile) we made were delicious. M. adds bacon to her version. I do not.

All the potato salad talk reminded me of a passage in A Moveable Feast, Hemingway's memoir of writing in Paris in the 1920's. In this passage, he's just gotten a check for a story and decides to go to a cafe, since he hasn't eaten lunch:

"It was a quick walk to Lipp's and every place I passed that my stomach noticed as quickly as my eyes made the walk an added pleasure. There were few people in the brasserie and when I sat down on a bench against the wall with the mirror in the back and a table in front and the waiter asked if I wanted beer I asked for a distingue, the big glass mug that held a liter, and potato salad.

The beer was very cold and wonderful to drink. The pommes a l'huile were firm and marinated and the olive oil delicious. I ground black pepper over the potatoes and moistened the bread with the olive oil. After the first heavy draft of beer I drank and ate very slowly."

Good old Hemingway. Whenever I read him, I want to have a cocktail.

Sparrows

There are many birds outside the office. There are starlings, finches who live in the loading dock, a pair of mangy pigeons, and lots of sparrows. I've started feeding them (or "creating a dependency," as C. says) and will bring in stale bread, baking misadventures, or birdseed. The sparrows are the tamest.

I had The Lovely Susannah read the poem today's quote comes from last night, and while my shipmates scoff at the idea of literature improving your life, she genuinely liked the poem and now wants to read more Roethke. Here's the quote:


I belive! I believe!--
In the sparrow, happy on gravel;
In the winter-wasp, pulsing its wings in the sunlight;
I have been somewhere else; I remember the sea-faced uncles.
I hear, clearly, the heart of another singing,
Lighter than bells,
Softer than water.

(from "Praise to the End")

The image caption tells us these are "Sparrows of Palestine." Our sparrows outside are not from Palestine.

Office Snack of the Day: potato salad.

A Sugar Maple

Source of maple syrup,
source of maple-lemon sauce on the
Office Snack of the Day

The First Post

Welcome to the first post of BLTL.
My friend S. wanted to be mentioned in the first paragraph. S., there you go.

The name of the blog will direct most posts, but I thought it would be a good idea to have some alternate topics, in case I couldn't find a quote for the day. Other topics may include:
1. Office Snack of the Day
(Today: bread pudding with maple-lemon sauce)
2. Potential Band Names Found in Everyday Conversation
(From a conversation about the science fair yesterday: Rogue Electron)
3. Piratical Phrases Uttered
(The vast majority of these are just "Yarr!" But today M. gave us, "To the plank with you!")

Tomorrow, I'll have a post about Roethke and sparrows.
You can't wait, I know.