|. . . Edgar Allan Poe|
|. . . 2000-12-10|
I've just read two Henry James stories from 1900 that, it strikes me, may strike certain friends and correspondents as useful correctives to my own rhetorical positions. Counterpoint away, my dear fellow!
The portrait of the little dead girl had evoked something attractive, though one had not lived so long in the world without hearing of plenty of little dead girls....A young man whose only distinction is affability takes up and moves in with a middle-aged couple whose only distinctions are their wealth and their mourning: they worship the memory of their dear departed saintly fourteen-year-old in relic, pilgrimage, and spiritualist rite. Years pass together, and there comes a mutual undiscussed decision that the best explanation for their current condition is that the daughter had actually lived long enough to meet the affable young man and put her under his spell. More years pass together, and there comes a mutual undiscussed decision....
"When a man has had for a few months what I had, you know!" The moral appeared to be that nothing in the way of human experience of the exquisite could again particularly matter. He saw, however, that I failed immediately to fit his reflection to a definite case, and he went on with the frankest smile: "You look as bewildered as if you suspected me of alluding to some sort of thing that isn't usually spoken of; but I assure you I mean nothing more reprehensible than our blessed engagement itself."
His father, it appeared, had come down on him for having, after so long [after art school], nothing to show, and hoped that, on his next return, this deficiency would be repaired. The thing, the Master complacently set forth was -- for any artist, however inferior to himself -- at least to "do" something. "What can you do? That's all I ask!" He had certainly done enough, and there was no mistake about what he had to show. Lance [the son] had tears in his eyes when it came thus to letting his old friend know how great the strain might be on the "sacrifice" asked of him. It wasn't so easy to continue humbugging -- as from son to parent -- after feeling one's self despised for not grovelling in mediocrity.
|. . . 2004-03-02|
Laudanum Mercy! Great Scotch!
Please erase 'The New Historicism.' Please.
Sometimes I feel a mad impulse to fling open the library window, stick my head out, take a deep breath, turn green, rush to the men's room, turn greener, rush to the other men's room, come back much refreshed, and shut and brick over the window. Don't you?
Besides, it's an election day, and these are the voices of America's future.
But, respecting the feelings of our gentler readers, I regretfully dropped the veil. Lift it at your own risk.
pseudopodium.org is an insain gay website with drug habbits and probably wants to MARRY another insain gay website with drug habbits!!!!
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