Gene-rosity? Cui bono?!

Shortly after my visit at (the herewith recommended) Postman Patel where I "stumbled upon" the link to my latest post I "stumbled upon" this.

Oh, well, reading carefully what I portioned into this evening's three posts you will surely find ...
The Peace of the Night. :)

"Pearls" before the swine?

From the Monsanto-pigs to the wheat and soya prices.

May I remind you of we are still on the topic (worldwide) food-monopoly?

Thank you very much. :)

Rather a Dandy than a pig

Well, Brummel, d'Orsay, Baudelaire, Barbey d'Aurevilly, Wilde and des Esseintes (the protagonist in Huysman's À Rebours) kept me busy for a while.
A work about Dandysm in the English and the French literature of the late 19th century.
Work? Rather a pleasure; except for those moments, minutes, hours a chosen word, a phrase, a metapher would not fit, or a smooth transition to the next aspect not be found. At times, no doubt, the master in the devil's kitchen would have demonically smiled about this polite blogger knowing so many wonderful swearwords. :)
By the way, although Dandysm is pronounced dead, when reading this or that detail I'd immediately think of this and that contemporary.

And now - with thanks to the Monty Pythons - for something completely different: Pigs.


to be definitively continued

But one quotation

There is scarcely anything more important in the government of men than the exact - I will even say - the pedantic - observance of the regular forms by which the guilt or innocence of accused persons is determined.

Winston Churchill

Literary afternoon

That he knew human nature well, and that he had adopted the only course which could place him in a prominent light, and would enable him to separate himself from society of ordinary herd of men, whom he held in considerable contempt.

Here I stopped reading out, and asked my friend: "Do you think, this hits the mark?"

Taking his silence was consent, I went on:

There was a heartlessness in his character, a spirit of gay misanthropy, a cynical, depreciating view of society, an absence of high-minded generous sentiment, a treacherous versatility, and deep powers of deceit.

"And? Doesn't it ..." At this moment I realized that Tetrapilotomos was enjoying his afternoon nap in my wing chair.

The more surprised I felt when suddenly I heard the sleeper declamate as if his voice were centuries old:

"I looked for no less, my lord, from your High Magnificence, and I have to tell you that the boon I have asked and your liberality has granted is that you shall dub me knight to-morrow morning, and that to-night I shall watch my arms in the chapel of this your castle; thus tomorrow, as I have said, will be accomplished what I so much desire, enabling me lawfully to roam through all the four quarters of the world seeking adventures on behalf of those in distress, as is the duty of chivalry and of knights-errant like, whose ambition is directed to such deeds."

Not only for a Steppenwolf :)

Like ev'ry flower wilts, like youth is fading
and turns to age, so also one's achieving:
Each virtue and each wisdom needs parading
in one's own time, and must not last forever.
The heart must be, at each new call for leaving,
prepared to part and start without the tragic,
without the grief - with courage to endeavor
a novel bond, a disparate connection:
for each beginning bears a special magic
that nurtures living and bestows protection.

We'll walk from space to space in glad progression
and should not cling to one as homestead for us.
The cosmic spirit will not bind nor bore us;
it lifts and widens us in ev'ry session:
for hardly set in one of life's expanses
we make it home, and apathy commences.
But only he, who travels and takes chances,
can break the habits' paralyzing stances.

It even may be that the last of hours
will make us once again a youthful lover:
The call of life to us forever flowers...
Anon, my heart! Do part and do recover!

Hermann Hesse, Steps

with thanks to the translators

And here in German the original:

Stufen

Wie jede Blüte welkt und jede Jugend
Dem Alter weicht, blüht jede Lebensstufe,
Blüht jede Weisheit auch und jede Tugend
Zu ihrer Zeit und darf nicht ewig dauern.
Es muß das Herz bei jedem Lebensrufe
Bereit zum Abschied sein und Neubeginne,
Um sich in Tapferkeit und ohne Trauern
In andre, neue Bindungen zu geben.
Und jedem Anfang wohnt ein Zauber inne,
Der uns beschützt und der uns hilft, zu leben.

Wir sollen heiter Raum um Raum durchschreiten,
An keinem wie an einer Heimat hängen,
Der Weltgeist will nicht fesseln uns und engen,
Er will uns Stuf’ um Stufe heben, weiten.
Kaum sind wir heimisch einem Lebenskreise
Und traulich eingewohnt, so droht Erschlaffen,
Nur wer bereit zu Aufbruch ist und Reise,
Mag lähmender Gewöhnung sich entraffen.

Es wird vielleicht auch noch die Todesstunde
Uns neuen Räumen jung entgegen senden,
Des Lebens Ruf an uns wird niemals enden …
Wohlan denn, Herz, nimm Abschied und gesunde!

Little Night Musi ... ng

Goethe:
Mozart is the human incarnation of the devine force of creation.

Mozart:
I write as a sow pisses.

Tetrapilotomos:
A divine sow, then.

The Peace of the Night.

The Poor Mouth speaking for Omnium

Tonight, as I am a bit busy with something else - of course, it has to do with Omnium, but not at all with blogging - I keep mine shut, and let Jams O'Donnell's Poor Mouth speak for me.

Jams let leak a seriously hilarious story from his keyboard into the blogosphere.
It's about science and fragrant winds, which is unfortunately not as nice an alliteration as is "wohlriechende Winde".
Hm ... ah! ... Heureka! What's about "wondrous winds"?

And now: Hurry up, and enjoy. :)

And what next?

As you might be able to imagine I had a very pleasant time between Christmas and New Year's Day.

Example: While I'd be busy with one of my gifts – a mortar – Tetrapilotomos would read to me out of his present: “Nietzsche für Boshafte”; in English the title might read “Nietzsche for malicious (readers)”.

Well, today, I was just extremely busy with preparing a Rucola pesto, out of the blue I heard my closest friend saying, his voice maliciously purring:

”By the way, Sean, may I congratulate you and your comrades-without-arms on your exorbitant blogospheric triumph in 2007, and may I ask what country's people you are going to freeing this year?”

And when I turned round, my brows forming a question mark:

“Last year you freed Burma, didn’t you?”

My right hand clasping the vessel I was just about saying something like ”And this is a mortar, and you are a mortal”, but in this moment Tetrapilotomos smiled:

”No offence, Sean! Just a tiny piece of sarcasm. Read this."

The rest was silence.

Happy New Year!

May 2008 bring you and those around you:
Health, love, peace, inspiration, success, leisure, contentment,
and - in case something does not immediately work - lots of serene calmness and calm serenety.

And ... who knows ... why not? ...

... perhaps you may even find the pot at the end of the rainbow ... :)

Merry Christmas! :)

Yes, I am agnostic.
But as you see my family and I do love to celebrate Christmas our way - joyful and without any hectic.

Indeed, when thinking of you having such wonderful days as we are allowed to live I do feel happy for you. :)

Thus:

Merry Christmas to you and the yours!

And what would Christmas be without wonderful music.

As most of you would not understand the original German version by Josef Mohr (1816) I thought you might like to listen "Silent Night" in Gaelic. :)

And as it was not on his list, the following song I dedicate to a very special Yorkshireman living in Russia:

May you decide, which version you like best. Here's to you, James! :)

The "Ave Maria" by Mario Lanza, (in the film "The Great Caruso), by Luciano Pavarotti, (Christmas 1975 in Notre Dame) and by Sarah Brightman.

Publish Post

Swearboarding for Saudi Machos

Yesterday, by scroogling Lord Ahmed and Fethullah Gülen in order to find articles in which both gentlemen would be mentioned I did again stumble over something completely different: this one month old article.

And again I felt the almost untamable wish to at least let the judges and everybody (!) responsible for enabling such "legal practice" know the myriads of curses, maledictions and swear-words my closest friend and I have been collecting, so far.

Yes, deeply I did regret that once I promised myself to keep contenance when blogging.

End of the beforegoing.

Today, what a surprise, one could read this.

Relief for the woman, yes.
But did the news calm my furor? Not at all.

And so, in a few minutes, after having fallen into the feathers and having put the head on my pillow I shall hopefully get presented the same dream I enjoyed the night before.

The King of Saudi Arabia, his complete entourage including judges and clergy being sent from the desert into the devils' kitchen where they are getting preferential treatment: Heaviest swearboarding which would not end before these ... hm ... these gentlemen would promise with immediate effect to veil their faces up til infinity and walk four steps behind their wives when lugging the shopping bags.

The Peace of the Night.

Kafka, the Kremlin and Kasparov

"Am in Erzurum. The
worshippers to dead
sardines' heads are
forming a
supranational elite.
Until soon,
kind regards,
Tetrapilotomos."

You remember this message I received November 16th?

Well, since, I had been living lovely quiet days, snapping at the chance to rereading parts of the correspondence between Voltaire and Frederic II., Saramago's The Seeing, and, after all, listening to Harry Rowohlt reading the complete volume of Sterne's Tristram Shandy, altogether 23 hours and 24 minutes on 22 CDs which had been last year's Christmas present.

There had been but five more messages, each containing of three words: Am in Istanbul, Am in Stockholm, Am in Moscow, Am in Bern. The last arrived Wednesday evening: Am in Lisbon.

Now, tonight watching the beginning of Kafka's "Castle", who drops in?
Right. My closest friend.

Here I am.

Welcome back, Tetrapilotomos. How ...

Ah, Kafka's Kremlin. Ulrich Mühe is brilliant in the Kasparov role.

You did not have a date with Mary Jo?

No.

Tetrapilotomos! Kafka took his last dwelling six feet under almost 40 years before Kasparov made his first move by leaving his first dame.

Are you sure?

A strong tea, Tetrapilotomos?

Yes. As K. awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed into an asteroid; in 1983 this asteroid would be discovered by Randolph Kirk and Donald Rudy who would name it 3412 Kafka, and in the same year "Amerika" would be published. Sean, don't you understand? It's a gig.....

Coming to think of it I do hastily agree. Otherwise, in a minute you'll tell Flann O'Brien is Kafka's reincarnation.

Was.

Is. Anyway, it's lovely to have you back, my friend. It was so quiet and I missed you so much.

Alright, seriously: But you will agree if Kafka were Russian, he would be a Costumbrista writer, won't you?

Would he be a Costumbrista writer, he were Mexican.

Why? Take it as an ingredient of globalisation ... or, this may please you more, of Omnium.

*

Well, actually I had intended to watch the film and afterwards to hear Tetrapilotomos telling a few (!) tales of his trip.
Instead, I did see nothing of the film, and ... the rest you know.

Now I am tired. Suppose tomorrow I'll need nerves of steel.

The peace of the night.


- - -

For those interested to read a little more about the (unfinished) novel, the film and its director: Voilà.

More about Kafka - and surprisingly not bad for the beginning - you find here.

And for those who could not get enough, highly commended: The Kafka Project.