That wants it down."
What I am seeing? Never do I begin a blog with myself, the word “I” and seldom or never a paragraph, if I'm paying attention to myself. A sentence maybe, some sentences, but in mid-paragraph.
Reading skillful prose, a beautiful essay, I’m seeing that it’s virtually - - virtual, virtually, not a good word these days, its meaning is lost to cultural rot - - virtually indistinguishable from poetry, some poetry. Astronomy* and poetry are indistinguishable, who doubts this should get a telescope and point it at the sky on a clear night, you will stand transfixed and transported. And poetry. Not doggerel such as I used to write evenings at sunset, but poetry. Frost, I’ve been reading Robert Frost (1874-1963), a lifelong favorite. Frost and about Frost, why? maybe because of high school, Miss Faye's class? maybe because I recall Robert Frost beautifully from my years at UnivFlorida when he came through twice a year, in the fall on his way south from home in New England to his winter place in Florida, again springtime returning home, and stopped by to read to us. It’s almost a dream now, auditorium packed standing room only and get there early or stand outside to listen. "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" he read and said, "there's no death in that," I watched him and heard the man himself say it. So I have a book. And there’s more on line, today A Boy's Will, his first successful book, published in England. A lot, I’ve read a lot of him, and North of Boston, his first successful book of poetry upon returning to America from England.
Okay, poetry, essays, and the firmament. There’s no difference in Frost’s poetry and an article about Black Holes in far out and away galaxies of the universe. Or even in Frost, astronomy, and Fahima Haque’s lyrical lament about Aziz Ansari** (“I’m Torn Over Claims Against Aziz Ansari” NYT20Jan2018), all magical. And, before Fahima and similar base, I remember a Jew, maybe a rabbi, maybe any appalled or heartbroken Jew, I don’t recall, who wrote “thanks a lot, Bernie” to Bernie Madoff. Madoff’s blasphemy against the Jewish race of humanity was beyond equal, even his son's suicide because of what Bernie did, so evil to so many and it coming home in heartbreaking horror. Now, for brown people, Mr. Ansari their hero becomes their tarnisher. They are horrified. Their tarnisher as, ineffably, my, having lived through the years of WW2 and the Nazi era from here across the sea, makes me lifelong and unabsolvably ashamed of my German heritage, whose civilization was once the intellectual beacon of the western world. I can't explain my feelings, it's ineffable, I guess you had to be there.
Or be one.
A galaxy, a poem, an essay. Every day is different, every day is a beautiful day.
TWäller
Seaboard America 524x91 arriving from Kingston with general cargo
* http://earthsky.org/space/1st-direct-black-hole-2018-image-event-horizon-telescope?mc_cid=248d4f4726&mc_eid=72812710a5
* http://earthsky.org/space/astronomers-detect-whirlpool-movement-in-earliest-galaxies?mc_cid=248d4f4726&mc_eid=72812710a5
** https://www.nytimes.com/newsletters/2018/01/20/race-related
Reading skillful prose, a beautiful essay, I’m seeing that it’s virtually - - virtual, virtually, not a good word these days, its meaning is lost to cultural rot - - virtually indistinguishable from poetry, some poetry. Astronomy* and poetry are indistinguishable, who doubts this should get a telescope and point it at the sky on a clear night, you will stand transfixed and transported. And poetry. Not doggerel such as I used to write evenings at sunset, but poetry. Frost, I’ve been reading Robert Frost (1874-1963), a lifelong favorite. Frost and about Frost, why? maybe because of high school, Miss Faye's class? maybe because I recall Robert Frost beautifully from my years at UnivFlorida when he came through twice a year, in the fall on his way south from home in New England to his winter place in Florida, again springtime returning home, and stopped by to read to us. It’s almost a dream now, auditorium packed standing room only and get there early or stand outside to listen. "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" he read and said, "there's no death in that," I watched him and heard the man himself say it. So I have a book. And there’s more on line, today A Boy's Will, his first successful book, published in England. A lot, I’ve read a lot of him, and North of Boston, his first successful book of poetry upon returning to America from England.
Okay, poetry, essays, and the firmament. There’s no difference in Frost’s poetry and an article about Black Holes in far out and away galaxies of the universe. Or even in Frost, astronomy, and Fahima Haque’s lyrical lament about Aziz Ansari** (“I’m Torn Over Claims Against Aziz Ansari” NYT20Jan2018), all magical. And, before Fahima and similar base, I remember a Jew, maybe a rabbi, maybe any appalled or heartbroken Jew, I don’t recall, who wrote “thanks a lot, Bernie” to Bernie Madoff. Madoff’s blasphemy against the Jewish race of humanity was beyond equal, even his son's suicide because of what Bernie did, so evil to so many and it coming home in heartbreaking horror. Now, for brown people, Mr. Ansari their hero becomes their tarnisher. They are horrified. Their tarnisher as, ineffably, my, having lived through the years of WW2 and the Nazi era from here across the sea, makes me lifelong and unabsolvably ashamed of my German heritage, whose civilization was once the intellectual beacon of the western world. I can't explain my feelings, it's ineffable, I guess you had to be there.
Or be one.
A galaxy, a poem, an essay. Every day is different, every day is a beautiful day.
TWäller
| Mending Wall |
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Seaboard America 524x91 arriving from Kingston with general cargo
* http://earthsky.org/space/1st-direct-black-hole-2018-image-event-horizon-telescope?mc_cid=248d4f4726&mc_eid=72812710a5
* http://earthsky.org/space/astronomers-detect-whirlpool-movement-in-earliest-galaxies?mc_cid=248d4f4726&mc_eid=72812710a5
** https://www.nytimes.com/newsletters/2018/01/20/race-related