May is World Masturbation Month.
Do your part.
Day 29
Friday, May 29, 2020
Thursday, May 28, 2020
Wednesday, May 27, 2020
Tuesday, May 26, 2020
Monday, May 25, 2020
Sunday, May 24, 2020
Saturday, May 23, 2020
Friday, May 22, 2020
Thursday, May 21, 2020
Wednesday, May 20, 2020
Tuesday, May 19, 2020
Monday, May 18, 2020
Sunday, May 17, 2020
Saturday, May 16, 2020
WILLIAM KRISTOL
The Washington Post, May 12, 2020
I have been surprised by the total capitulation to Trump. I never liked the, Well, in private, they say this. I mean, at some point, that is not an excuse; it’s almost meaningless. People’s behavior in public, if you’re a public official, is your behavior. It really came to a head on impeachment, where we fought hard trying to get Republicans to do the right thing and failed entirely, except for Romney. I think that brought home to me, and should have brought home to everyone, that Republican members of Congress should get zero credit for saying things in private that they’re not willing to say in public. At least the true believers believe it, right? I mean, is going along really a more admirable stance? Is being a cynical apparatchik better than being a true believer?
The Washington Post, May 12, 2020
I have been surprised by the total capitulation to Trump. I never liked the, Well, in private, they say this. I mean, at some point, that is not an excuse; it’s almost meaningless. People’s behavior in public, if you’re a public official, is your behavior. It really came to a head on impeachment, where we fought hard trying to get Republicans to do the right thing and failed entirely, except for Romney. I think that brought home to me, and should have brought home to everyone, that Republican members of Congress should get zero credit for saying things in private that they’re not willing to say in public. At least the true believers believe it, right? I mean, is going along really a more admirable stance? Is being a cynical apparatchik better than being a true believer?
Friday, May 15, 2020
Thursday, May 14, 2020
Wednesday, May 13, 2020
Tuesday, May 12, 2020
Monday, May 11, 2020
ADRIENNE RICH
"The Snow Queen"
Child with a chip of mirror in his eye
Saw the world ugly, fled to plains of ice
Where beauty was the Snow Queen’s promises,
Under my lids a splinter sharp as his
Has made me wish you lying dead
Whose image digs the needle deeper still.
In the deceptive province of my birth
I have seen yes turn no, the saints descend
Their sacred faces twisted into smiles,
The stars gone lechering, the village spring
Gush mud and toads—all miracles
Befitting an incalculable age.
To love a human face was to discover
The cracks of paint and varnish on the brow,
Soon to distrust all impulses of flesh
That strews its sawdust on the chamber floor,
While at the window peer two crones
Who once were Juliet and Jessica.
No matter, since I kept a little while
One thing intact from that perversity—
While landscapes bloomed in monstrous cubes and coils.
In you belonged simplicities of light
To cool the vision, teach the air
To shine, the stars to find their way again.
Yet here the Snow Queen’s cold prodigious will
Commands me, and your face has lost its power,
Dissolving to its opposite like the rest.
Under my ribs a diamond splinter now
Sticks, and is rooted; only you
Deny the frozen spear that drives me through.
"The Snow Queen"
Child with a chip of mirror in his eye
Saw the world ugly, fled to plains of ice
Where beauty was the Snow Queen’s promises,
Under my lids a splinter sharp as his
Has made me wish you lying dead
Whose image digs the needle deeper still.
In the deceptive province of my birth
I have seen yes turn no, the saints descend
Their sacred faces twisted into smiles,
The stars gone lechering, the village spring
Gush mud and toads—all miracles
Befitting an incalculable age.
To love a human face was to discover
The cracks of paint and varnish on the brow,
Soon to distrust all impulses of flesh
That strews its sawdust on the chamber floor,
While at the window peer two crones
Who once were Juliet and Jessica.
No matter, since I kept a little while
One thing intact from that perversity—
While landscapes bloomed in monstrous cubes and coils.
In you belonged simplicities of light
To cool the vision, teach the air
To shine, the stars to find their way again.
Yet here the Snow Queen’s cold prodigious will
Commands me, and your face has lost its power,
Dissolving to its opposite like the rest.
Under my ribs a diamond splinter now
Sticks, and is rooted; only you
Deny the frozen spear that drives me through.
DENISE LEVERTOV
"Sound of the Axe"
Once a woman went into the woods.
The birds were silent. Why? she said.
Thunder, they told her,
thunder is coming.
She walked on, and the trees were dark
and rustled their leaves. Why? she said.
The great storm, they told her,
the great storm is coming.
She came to the river, it rushed by
without reply, she crossed the bridge,
she began to climb
up to the ridge where grey rocks
bleached themselves, waiting
for crack of doom,
and the hermit
had his hut, the wise man
who had lived since time began.
When she came to the hut
there was no one.
But she heard his axe.
She heard
the listening forest.
She dared not follow the sound
of the axe. Was it
the world-tree he was felling?
Was this the day?
The Paris Review - Issue 79 (Spring 1981)
Sunday, May 10, 2020
Saturday, May 9, 2020
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)