Sunday, August 15, 2004
Saturday, August 14, 2004
Wednesday, August 11, 2004
going south... maybe they got some sun
Tuesday, August 10, 2004
a cool day here in lake county... gray
mostly... new shoes day... just one pair of fairly inexpensive
cross-trainers... mostly for the gym... which requires decent
shoes... i stood for a long while in front of the running shoes...
thought about my knee... thought about the track the trail the
wind in my hair... my knee... so no running shoes this time around...
almost done with eagleton's literary
criticism... like it very much... understood more of it than of
most of this ilk... but near the end i'm drifting off wondering
what it all comes to... how it works or doesn't in classes like
on erdrich's last report... i'm gonna finish this sucker... still
how to do farming... what could be more arcane for such as me...
now it's all about loss... for us... lost time lost know-how lost
land... and something else...
sorry for getting so political... just
can't resist this sound-off from new york on illinois's new candidate
New York Times > Plan B for Illinois
August 10, 2004
B for Illinois
In the noble
tradition of the Marquis de Lafayette, the Seven Samurai, Mighty
Mouse and Obi-Wan Kenobi, Alan Keyes is leaving home to go to
the aid of a pitiable band of outgunned, hopeless supplicants:
the Illinois Republican Party.
party had been stumbling for months to find someone, anyone, to
oppose Barack Obama, a Democrat, in the race for the United States
Senate. The Obama Express has been cannonballing to Washington,
picking up speed after Mr. Obama's dazzling keynote speech at
the Democratic convention. The Republicans opted to overlook minor
defects - like the fact that Mr. Keyes lives in Maryland. After
all, every other conceivable Republican candidate had either jumped
the tracks or politely declined an invitation to be tied to them.
Weeks after losing their primary
winner, Jack Ryan, over allegations stemming from his divorce,
the Republicans have finally settled on Plan B: Mr. Keyes, a hard-core
conservative who has carved out a career as a sort of professional
unsuccessful candidate. He has never won office in four previous
attempts, two each for president and the Senate.
Like Mr. Obama, Mr. Keyes is black, and the winner
will be only the third African-American in the Senate since Reconstruction.
But the race now seems likely to turn the Republicans' big tent
into something more like the Big Top: Smell the rank hypocrisy!
(Mr. Keyes accused Hillary Clinton of being a carpetbagger in
her 2000 Senate race.) See the ideological acrobats! (The state
Republican chairwoman, who accuses Mr. Obama of being far out
of the mainstream, is a moderate who supports abortion rights.
Mr. Keyes condemns it in practically every case as "murder
in the womb.")
this page expressed hope that Mr. Obama would have an opponent
this fall, Mr. Keyes is not exactly what we had in mind. He did
meet the party's minimal qualifications - he has a well-known
name and is willing to show up. And he is a polished public speaker.
But if the only challenge for Mr. Obama is to appear more reasonable
than his opponent - who believes the federal income tax is unconstitutional
- the bar will not be very high.
2004 The New York Times Company
Observer | Walden' still vital at age 150Q.
'Walden' is regarded as a stylistic masterpiece. Did it change
American writing? If so, how?
you've hit upon an important point. In my opinion, it didn't so
much change American writing as it modeled what American writing
would become within the next few generations. Look at the prose
of his contemporaries (Emerson, Poe, Hawthorne, Melville, James).
These latter are fine writers but in a more florid, almost 'European'
style. Thoreau's prose is spare, focused and balanced. His unit
of thought is the sentence, not the paragraph; and he picks individual
words as if he's mining for gems.
Monday, August 09, 2004
is one big late-term pregnancy.
... with fine photographic
is 150 years old today...With thinking we may be beside ourselves in a
sane sense. By a conscious effort of the mind we can stand aloof
from actions and their consequences; and all things, good and
bad, go by us like a torrent. We are not wholly involved in Nature. I
may be either the driftwood in the stream, or Indra in the sky
looking down on it. I may be affected by a theatrical exhibition;
on the other hand, I may not be affected by an actual event which
appears to concern me much more. I only know myself as a human
entity; the scene, so to speak, of thoughts and affections; and
am sensible of a certain doubleness by which I can stand as remote
from myself as from another. However intense my experience, I
am conscious of the presence and criticism of a part of me, which,
as it were, is not a part of me, but spectator, sharing no experience,
but taking note of it, and that is no more I than it is you. When
the play, it may be the tragedy, of life is over, the spectator
goes his way. It was a kind of fiction, a work of the imagination
only, so far as he was concerned. This doubleness may easily make
us poor neighbors and friends sometimes.
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