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Jan. 2nd, 2014
Magnifying Glass
Jan. 2nd, 2014 02:10 pmWell, that’s ten dollars wasted. I tried to get a new magnifying glass from Amazon to replace the little one I use when I read on my walks to the pond. It is prettier and the frame and stem are much more solid. In fact, I first worried that it was a little too heavy for my purposes, but then I discovered that there are worse problems with the glass. It seems to be warped at the center, so that it makes the words blur and swim under it. At the very center of the glass! Destroying it as far as reading books is concerned. Losing ten dollars is not a tragedy, but I feel it.
“You could send it back, right? And get your money back.”
Probably. And if it cost me fifty dollars, I would certainly give it a try. As it is, I’d rather lose the ten dollars and spare myself the hassle.
“You could send it back, right? And get your money back.”
Probably. And if it cost me fifty dollars, I would certainly give it a try. As it is, I’d rather lose the ten dollars and spare myself the hassle.
AP (8) The Tom Cruise Scene
Jan. 2nd, 2014 05:46 pmOne striking feature in Ellis’s novel is that the actor Tom Cruise has a bit part in it. Patrick Bateman and Cruise share an elevator. It is striking to see our slasher-psycho sort of kissing up to the famous actor.
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He is much shorter in person and he’s wearing the same pair of black Wayfarers I have on. He’s dressed in blue jeans, a white T-shirt, an Armani jacket.
To break the noticeably uncomfortable silence, I clear my throat and say, “I thought you were very fine in Bartender. I thought it was quite a good movie, and Top Gun too. I really thought that was good.”
He looks away from the numbers and then straight at me. “It was called Cocktail,” he says softly.
“Pardon?” I say, confused.
He clears his throat and says, “Cocktail. Not Bartender. The film was called Cocktail.”
-- “American Psycho” by Bret Easton Ellis
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<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
He is much shorter in person and he’s wearing the same pair of black Wayfarers I have on. He’s dressed in blue jeans, a white T-shirt, an Armani jacket.
To break the noticeably uncomfortable silence, I clear my throat and say, “I thought you were very fine in Bartender. I thought it was quite a good movie, and Top Gun too. I really thought that was good.”
He looks away from the numbers and then straight at me. “It was called Cocktail,” he says softly.
“Pardon?” I say, confused.
He clears his throat and says, “Cocktail. Not Bartender. The film was called Cocktail.”
-- “American Psycho” by Bret Easton Ellis
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Theodore Roethke
Jan. 2nd, 2014 09:11 pmI am hunting poems again. On the four-star system, keeping the three-star and four-star poems, we have one that adores and savors a lovely woman, a common enough theme. I would give it three stars: it's not really perfect for me, but it is a keeper.
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I knew a woman, lovely in her bones,
When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them;
Ah, when she moved, she moved more ways than one:
The shapes a bright container can contain!
Of her choice virtues only gods should speak,
Or English poets who grew up on Greek
(I’d have them sing in chorus, cheek to cheek).
How well her wishes went! She stroked my chin,
She taught me Turn, and Counter-turn, and Stand;
She taught me Touch, that undulant white skin;
I nibbled meekly from her proffered hand;
She was the sickle; I, poor I, the rake,
Coming behind her for her pretty sake
(But what prodigious mowing we did make).
Love likes a gander, and adores a goose:
Her full lips pursed, the errant note to seize;
She played it quick, she played it light and loose;
My eyes, they dazzled at her flowing knees;
Her several parts could keep a pure repose,
Or one hip quiver with a mobile nose
(She moved in circles, and those circles moved).
Let seed be grass, and grass turn into hay:
I’m martyr to a motion not my own;
What’s freedom for? To know eternity.
I swear she cast a shadow white as stone.
But who would count eternity in days?
These old bones live to learn her wanton ways:
(I measure time by how a body sways).
-- "I Knew a Woman" by Theodore Roethke
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<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
I knew a woman, lovely in her bones,
When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them;
Ah, when she moved, she moved more ways than one:
The shapes a bright container can contain!
Of her choice virtues only gods should speak,
Or English poets who grew up on Greek
(I’d have them sing in chorus, cheek to cheek).
How well her wishes went! She stroked my chin,
She taught me Turn, and Counter-turn, and Stand;
She taught me Touch, that undulant white skin;
I nibbled meekly from her proffered hand;
She was the sickle; I, poor I, the rake,
Coming behind her for her pretty sake
(But what prodigious mowing we did make).
Love likes a gander, and adores a goose:
Her full lips pursed, the errant note to seize;
She played it quick, she played it light and loose;
My eyes, they dazzled at her flowing knees;
Her several parts could keep a pure repose,
Or one hip quiver with a mobile nose
(She moved in circles, and those circles moved).
Let seed be grass, and grass turn into hay:
I’m martyr to a motion not my own;
What’s freedom for? To know eternity.
I swear she cast a shadow white as stone.
But who would count eternity in days?
These old bones live to learn her wanton ways:
(I measure time by how a body sways).
-- "I Knew a Woman" by Theodore Roethke
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