"[...]a vessel cleaving the dungeon of the waves[...]"
You're Love in the Time of Cholera!
by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Like Odysseus in a work of Homer, you demonstrate undying loyalty by
sleeping with as many people as you possibly can. But in your heart you never give
consent! This creates a strange quandary of what love really means to you. On the
one hand, you've loved the same person your whole life, but on the other, your actions
barely speak to this fact. Whatever you do, stick to bottled water. The other stuff
could get you killed.
Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.
Never miss a word
You're Infinite Jest!
by David Foster Wallace
While you1 consider yourself2 to be clever,
there are those3 who think you're just full of yourself or, perhaps worse,
playing a joke4 on everyone around you, and yet you are pretty sure that
you really are that brilliant after all, since people would hardly take the time to
get to know you5 if they didn't care very deeply about what you had to
say to them, to wit, about their lives, their hopes, their dreams, their fears, their
drug habits, and of course what videos6 they prefer to watch, since,
after all, your impressive vocabulary and tendency to go on and on7 makes
you seem superior, able to educate them, and really drive a sense of something
ineffable into their measly little skulls while you are not above making a cheap
gag or really going after anyone or anything or telling them about incredible
futures involving tennis, geopolitics, and
1Meaning you personally, not someone like you or your own
personal daddy, for example.
2As well as you can see yourself, which, frankly, may not be that well.
3Though we wouldn't deign to be so peripatetic as to name them here, mind.
4Jokes, though not common in Victorian England, were known to originate
sometime in ancient history, perhaps as early as the time of Babylon, or even before.
It is thought that the history of the joke plays an integral role in the mindset of
the characters depicted here, though you may disagree at this point, in which case I
am facing quite the dilemma in relaying this narrative, no?
5It is rather time consuming, after all.
6Ha!
7and on and on and on...
Take the Book Quiz II
at the Blue Pyramid.
You're The Metamorphosis!
by Franz Kafka
Though you think you're in the midst of a dream, the fact of the
matter is that your life has become a nightmare. The nightmare at first seems
horrific to you, but you are slowly able to adjust to the facts of the matter
and settle down and make do with what you've been given. There are those that
would say you're pointless and absurd, but you're really just trying to
demonstrate that people can (and do) adapt to anything, no matter how absurd
it is. Not that this will really inspire them to change, because they probably
don't understand.
Take the Book Quiz II
at the Blue Pyramid.
About Me
- Σφιγξ
- possesses wholly unmerited academic pretensions; examines love as an entomologist; collects haunted dollshouses; notes the lunar phase as regularly as the temperature; peruses field guides; reads like a serial magazine subscriptionist; functions through coffee and "mood" music; draws to the very corners of the page; takes notes on unlined paper; reads poetry as prayer; observes textual authority with the incredulity of fiction; suppresses the smart-ass answer(s); adapts as well as anyone beseiged by her own bibelots; she is a sensation seeker in spite of all of this.
21 comments:
"No one can write like Vallejo and not sound like a fraud. He's just too much himself and not you. I did swipe one thing from him. In his great poem to Pedro Rojas he gives this railroad worker a little silver spoon with which to eat his lunch on the job. It's just a perfect tiny insight into the man. In my poem to P. L., the soldier who died in Spain, I give P. L. a little knife he wears at all times. Maybe someday someone will find the person who gets the fork." -Philip Levine to Edward Hirsch, The Unwritten Biography
http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16177
By all "intents" and purposes, I think the fork is an excellent, if innocuous, weapon--the glutton skewers the deliciously fatty oblivious to the final bite that will be his sum total, his history.
Do you recall seeing the ad campaign and its projectile table knife advertising the DASH diet?
No, it is Greek (the Romans borrowed later)--ὑμήν (humen): membrane and πτερόν (pteron): wing
"In Greek mythology he plays a prominent part as a subordinate character in certain cycles, for example: 'Hymen had been called to bless with his presence the nuptials of Orpheus with Eurydice; but though he attended, he brought no happy omens with him. His very torch smoked and brought tears into their eyes.'"
http://www.pantheon.org/articles/h/hymen.html
Negatively suggestible, I know you won't carry an Epipen...the word "supposed to" is tantamount to a coffin nail.
I ran headfirst into a wasp nest three summers ago, and sustained a dozen stings on my head. I was going to knock on someone's door to use the phone to call to be driven home, or something, but nobody was home on the street...so I stumbled home. Life carries on, and tenaciously so, sometimes.
http://books.google.com/books?id=09qTVKsjwSwC&pg=PA229&dq=Romeo+Juliet+wedding+knife&hl=en&sa=X&ei=PH5LUtqyD4rmiALz6IHIAg&ved=0CEoQ6AEwAA#v=onepage&q=Romeo%20Juliet%20wedding%20knife&f=false
http://www.solearabiantree.net/namingofparts/mapofverona.html
http://books.google.com/books?id=RnbGAgAAQBAJ&pg=PP9&dq=%22Barnacle%27s+Love+Song+to+Humpback+Whale%22&hl=en&sa=X&ei=DpH-U7apKtLesAT_noGACg&ved=0CB0Q6AEwAA#v=onepage&q=%22Barnacle%27s%20Love%20Song%20to%20Humpback%20Whale%22&f=false
http://www.poetrymagazines.org.uk/magazine/record.asp?id=24227
http://towerjournal.com/NewEnglandConservatory/lettre-ocean.htm
I had a dream this morning that my backyard was filled with a menagerie; amazingly, getting along, and that I had a yellow canary fly into my hands. Something told me that I had to cradle it in my hands until it could be united with its blue parakeet/chaffinch "blue canary" mate, and I sat in a terrible tropical dive sheltering the canary in my hands. I was served lurid red mousse with artificial whipped cream (its peaks were breaking into oil), and then I woke up.
http://flickrhivemind.net/Tags/barnacles,whale/Recent
http://news.nationalgeographic.com/2015/05/150518-starstruck-stargazing-moon-planets-stars-constellations/
http://www.theguardian.com/books/2012/feb/17/mara-crossing-ruth-padel-review
http://www.thisiscolossal.com/2015/11/the-sea-organ-makes-perpetual-music-with-ocean-waves/
Yes, the full moon will be in Gemini again.
"On the journey up the coast the heavy, unmolded lines of a larval fish had been sculptured to a torpedo-shaped body with a hint of power in the shoulders and of speed in the tampering flanks. Now he had put on the sea coat of an adult mackerel. He was clothed in scales, but they were so fine and small that he was soft and velvet to the touch. His back was deep blue green—the color of the deep places of the sea that Scomber had not yet seen—and over the blue-green background irregular inky stripes ran from the back fin halfway down his flanks. His underparts gleamed of silver, and when the sun found him as he moved just under the surface of the sea he glittered with the colors of the rainbow." —Rachel Carson's Under the Sea-Wind (1941)
https://schabrieres.wordpress.com/2015/11/25/helene-cadou-il-faut-revenir-pas-a-pas-1977/
https://books.google.com/books?id=nNSiFaED1BAC&lpg=PA56&dq=Quelle%20belle%20heure%2C%20quels%20bons%20bras%20me%20rendront%20cette%20r%C3%A9gion%20d'o%C3%B9%20mes%20sommeils%20et%20mes%20moindres%20mouvements%3F&pg=PA56#v=onepage&q=Quelle%20belle%20heure,%20quels%20bons%20bras%20me%20rendront%20cette%20r%C3%A9gion%20d'o%C3%B9%20mes%20sommeils%20et%20mes%20moindres%20mouvements?&f=false
https://books.google.com/books?id=0b1XAgAAQBAJ&lpg=PA25&dq=Collection%20of%20Sand%20Calvino%20%20projected%20on%20a%20uniform%20expanse&pg=PA25#v=onepage&q=Collection%20of%20Sand%20Calvino%20%20projected%20on%20a%20uniform%20expanse&f=false
I will put Exercise 89 here.
https://www.google.com/books/edition/James_Merrill/40kpoIwL4bMC?hl=en&gbpv=1&dq=%22Black+on+flat+water+past+the+jonquil+lawns+Riding,+the+black+swan+draws+A+private+chaos+warbling+in+its+wake,+Assuming,+like+a+fourth+dimension,+splendor++++That+calls+the+child+with+white+ideas+of+swans+Nearer+to+that+green+lake+Where+every+paradox+means+wonder.%22&pg=PA3&printsec=frontcover
I tested Facebook, and I was met in kind. I will put the initial argument here, and resolve the conflict in the personal with an approved conclusion.
III. Être entre d'une lampe et d'une suspension
A wine glass shuddering in still sparks, its crystal connecting nervous and ardent to the light of the lamps. She stretched out her small hands, so damp, took it delicately as if it were electric in its fragility; intensely slow she let it fall out the window shattering in herself the resistance of her life; she heard its shards singing rapidly alongside the distant cement. Frightened she listened for an instant to the room where Irene’s guests were gathered: nobody had heard and the cheerful murmuring kept going in a single whirl; no maid was turning up. […]Destroying the glass had nothing to do with her past, with the time that was running out, it was an instant above her own life—she was strangely noticing what she was thinking as in one of those pale and silly memories of things that don’t exist. Above all because she was separated from herself by two delicate glasses of drink. But she already knew this: that it was always too late in order to not enter the room.
-Benjamin Moser’s and Magdalena Edwards’s 2018 translation of Clarice Lispector’s Lustre (1946)
Destined to breathe, forever, atoms of specialized vials air-dried and spray-coated for renditions
Of microvaccine thermo-controlled with overt notices that there is no risk of drawing up micro glass into the syringes remaindered in lock-tight Eleusis, where Veritas patterns the bottom of wells and jobs well-purposed by dynamic subjects overloaded and aspiring in their adapted states of marrow mechanostats—
Appraising evidence by its custodians of the New College (1636), of which there are no representations of its founder, endowed by an initial bequest of 400 books, which then followed human chattels, offering cues against like-suffering paume
D'une main decoctions of some aunt's far end of the plot's what once had been a hothouse, its plates broken, straggling last summer's dog rosehips
Against disheartening outcomes and probabilistic assumptions spurred on by single-arm trials—
Silenced, as if to suggest the mutability of forearmed viral envelopes and cross-species jumps among the hypersanitized vulnerable to recreate in the mire an undefended afternoon; meanwhile, deeper darkness closed around imago of what the broken pane realized, the last letter signed Yrs. Years? by Henry Green’s John Haye (1926)—Contemplating the screen's error
Message likewise [...]
I owe this first stanza to this article about Corning valor glass, vial coring (despite precautions, with the seemingly endless drugs one draws), and the possibility of injected glass retention particles, as contained but never recalled closed container integrity vials of ActHib vaccine by by Sanofi Pasteur in 2016.
I am amused that traces of fear persist among my age group with the rubber-lined goggles and Handmaid's tale purity rags on one's head, despite the exposed surface area of all of one's skin. People's humanity has atrophied with this excessive hygiene and concern for one's permeability to virus. What pieces of shit they were was always there waiting to be revealed.
Humility always.
https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.newyorker.com/magazine/2020/12/07/the-race-to-make-vials-for-coronavirus-vaccines/amp
https://cen.acs.org/materials/Vials-vital-COVID-19-vaccine/98/i37
I started reading these after the chaplain at the VA five years ago wheeled around with a trolley materials for distribution. She was an Air Force veteran, very classy, and undeterred when the patients stated that they did not care about God, and that unless she was delivering cigarettes, get out. She would leave a book and a prerecorded mp3 amusingly called the Biblestick, and politely be on her way to the next customer and a plush retirement.
I had to preach the gospel of appealing as soon as possible to the VA after processing a veteran with incontestable pulmonary fibrosis and pulmonary hypertension (enlarged right ventricular hypertrophy indicative of cor pulmonale) from dioxin exposure in Agent Orange.
https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK223406/
https://odb.org/US/2021/03/15/caring-letters
https://sparq.stanford.edu/solutions/caring-letters-prevent-suicide
https://youtu.be/zPbLBiWxXFU
https://books.google.com/books?id=IY9-BAAAQBAJ&pg=PA27&dq=adam+zagajewski+%22describing+paintings%22&hl=en&newbks=1&newbks_redir=0&source=gb_mobile_search&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwj7tJTB5M3vAhURbs0KHcxaBrwQ6AEwAHoECAAQAw
I witnessed how confidence with point-of-care ultrasound of the heart (POCUS) ability is crucial, instead of deferring a diagnosis for an echo tech to show up the next day during business hours.
RV enlargement can be treated with diuretics, but the patient's CXR with pulmonary fibrotic changes with a D-shaped cardiac silhouette failing traditional diuresis in past in the setting of potential dioxin and asbestos lung injury, suggests pulmonary hypertension.
This video starts with the cookbook low SBP with IV bolus and pressor support with questions about whether to intubate (often a poor outcome in ARDS), but the sono part of RV function is what I am posting here, to remember.
https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/30065468/
Late entry. Exercise 89:
https://1drv.ms/i/s!AsA4BY25Ql_1mXr1Fm17KsV3pCiR
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