In the early days of this blog, I used to correlate my friends with actors--I would cast the actors who ought to play my friends in a movie. There was my family, Little Gidding, and The Others. I never made it to Wystan, nor Hopkins, and must remedy that immediately.
Wystan would be William Powell, especially as Nick Charles. First of all, William Powell has a mustache. I would very much like to see Wystan in a mustache. Second, he's wry and witty. Third, I've seen lots of movies with him in them: The Thin Man (there's a whole series of thin men, evidently--I want to see them!), Life with Father (which I know is absolutely delightful, but I can always only remember the way the word "baptized" is accented--bap tized'), and How to Marry a Millionaire (which, as previously noted, is delightful). Fourth, he's old, like Wystan (who is soon to get significantly older).
Hopkins would be Emma Thompson. Ever since I watched Sense and Sensibility, and my father said that I was Eleanor (which is a beautiful, beautiful name) and Stearns was Marianne, I have adored Emma Thompson. She seems to me to be sophisticated, stable, and grounded. And these are lots of my same thoughts about Hopkins--ever since she fed me chocolate late at night and listened to me ramble about boys, and then later when she cooked me dinner and showed me Stranger than Fiction (okay, fine, so Thompson isn't stable and grounded in that film...), and we can't forget the time that she watched me ruin halushky for a small dinner party and calmed me down and told me never to apologize for anything you cook (or something along those lines), and then ate the halushky.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
If Wystan and Hopkins Were a Movie
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Monday, November 2, 2009
Serendipity and the Internet
(
My answers to the poor souls who stumbled across my blog through silly google searches.)
pronunciation of kowit--Cow it.
trip to a dentist poem--Trip to a dentist haiku:
My last dentist trip
Involved a loudly screaming
Little, tooth-pulled girl
I got three cavities--I'm very sorry. I only have a half of a cavity, and that is due to a tooth deformity.
elbow patches origins--Elbow patches are a distinctly upper-class style that originated when the King of England fell in love with their chic-ness and had them sown onto all of his blazers, particularly the ones that were corduroy and tweed.
do you say concord or con-curd--Depends on if it's harmony or Massachusetts.
poems for leopards--Necessary! Leopards love poems, particularly limericks.
ladies occasional blouses--These are blouses that you only wear occasionally. Not to be worn more than once every three months.
love in language confusion--See Lost in Translation.
inadverdant--Not toward green. |
lips do the helen white leopards--I don't know what to say here. fashion is political--Everything is political, especially art. Of course, by political, I probably mean pre-political. |
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Sunday, November 1, 2009
G.K. Chesterton on Women

The questions that the following (very long) excerpt raises for me include:
Is Chesterton arguing from nature? If so, why is the woman better fitted for being the generalist than the man is? If not, why should it be the woman rather than the man? Alternatively, he may be arguing that women commonly have a particular proclivity toward one way of thinking. In this case, why must we persuade women to adopt the role that only oftentimes best fits them?
Why protect the woman from specialization (this reminds me of Tocqueville's argument that we must preserve women from the horrors of the democratic public sphere)? Granted, nature isn't irrelevant here on any account: women bear the children, and then there's breast feeding, etc. But after that, what is the argument?
I think that I get riled up by the idea of protecting women. Don't get me wrong: I love being protected. But it isn't just women that we should seek to protect. Women have a responsibility to protect men, too. And not just be being protected, I think.
It's funny to me that he calls women a Trimmer at the end of this section--this is what Oakeshott calls a person who seeks to uphold tradition. Oakeshott also emphasizes the bravery of the one who fulfills this role.
HT: Whigwham
But here's Chesterton:
And it should be remarked in passing that this force upon a man to develop one feature has nothing to do with what is commonly called our competitive system, but would equally exist under any rationally conceivable kind of Collectivism. Unless the Socialists are frankly ready for a fall in the standard of violins, telescopes and electric lights, they must somehow create a moral demand on the individual that he shall keep up his present concentration on these things. It was only by men being in some degree specialist that there ever were any telescopes; they must certainly be in some degree specialist in order to keep them going. It is not by making a man a State wage-earner that you can prevent him thinking principally about the very difficult way he earns his wages. There is only one way to preserve in the world that high levity and that more leisurely outlook which fulfils the old vision of universalism. That is, to permit the existence of a partly protected half of humanity; a half which the harassing industrial demand troubles indeed, but only troubles indirectly. In other words, there must be in every center of humanity one human being upon a larger plan; one who does not "give her best," but gives her all.
Our old analogy of the fire remains the most workable one. The fire need not blaze like electricity nor boil like boiling water; its point is that it blazes more than water and warms more than light. The wife is like the fire, or to put things in their proper proportion, the fire is like the wife. Like the fire, the woman is expected to cook: not to excel in cooking, but to cook; to cook better than her husband who is earning the coke by lecturing on botany or breaking stones. Like the fire, the woman is expected to tell tales to the children, not original and artistic tales, but tales--better tales than would probably be told by a first-class cook. Like the fire, the woman is expected to illuminate and ventilate, not by the most startling revelations or the wildest winds of thought, but better than a man can do it after breaking stones or lecturing. But she cannot be expected to endure anything like this universal duty if she is also to endure the direct cruelty of competitive or bureaucratic toil. Woman must be a cook, but not a competitive cook; a school mistress, but not a competitive schoolmistress; a house-decorator but not a competitive house-decorator; a dressmaker, but not a competitive dressmaker. She should have not one trade but twenty hobbies; she, unlike the man, may develop all her second bests. This is what has been really aimed at from the first in what is called the seclusion, or even the oppression, of women. Women were not kept at home in order to keep them narrow; on the contrary, they were kept at home in order to keep them broad. The world outside the home was one mass of narrowness, a maze of cramped paths, a madhouse of monomaniacs. It was only by partly limiting and protecting the woman that she was enabled to play at five or six professions and so come almost as near to God as the child when he plays at a hundred trades. But the woman's professions, unlike the child's, were all truly and almost terribly fruitful; so tragically real that nothing but her universality and balance prevented them being merely morbid. This is the substance of the contention I offer about the historic female position. I do not deny that women have been wronged and even tortured; but I doubt if they were ever tortured so much as they are tortured now by the absurd modern attempt to make them domestic empresses and competitive clerks at the same time. I do not deny that even under the old tradition women had a harder time than men; that is why we take off our hats. I do not deny that all these various female functions were exasperating; but I say that there was some aim and meaning in keeping them various. I do not pause even to deny that woman was a servant; but at least she was a general servant.
The shortest way of summarizing the position is to say that woman stands for the idea of Sanity; that intellectual home to which the mind must return after every excursion on extravagance. The mind that finds its way to wild places is the poet's; but the mind that never finds its way back is the lunatic's. There must in every machine be a part that moves and a part that stands still; there must be in everything that changes a part that is unchangeable. And many of the phenomena which moderns hastily condemn are really parts of this position of the woman as the center and pillar of health. Much of what is called her subservience, and even her pliability, is merely the subservience and pliability of a universal remedy; she varies as medicines vary, with the disease. She has to be an optimist to the morbid husband, a salutary pessimist to the happy-go-lucky husband. She has to prevent the Quixote from being put upon, and the bully from putting upon others. The French King wrote--
"Toujours femme varie
Bien fol qui s'y fie,"
but the truth is that woman always varies, and that is exactly why we always trust her. To correct every adventure and extravagance with its antidote in common-sense is not (as the moderns seem to think) to be in the position of a spy or a slave. It is to be in the position of Aristotle or (at the lowest) Herbert Spencer, to be a universal morality, a complete system of thought. The slave flatters; the complete moralist rebukes. It is, in short, to be a Trimmer in the true sense of that honorable term; which for some reason or other is always used in a sense exactly opposite to its own. It seems really to be supposed that a Trimmer means a cowardly person who always goes over to the stronger side. It really means a highly chivalrous person who always goes over to the weaker side; like one who trims a boat by sitting where there are few people seated. Woman is a trimmer; and it is a generous, dangerous and romantic trade.
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Saturday, October 31, 2009

QUOTE OF THE DAY:
"Likewise the appropriation of cultural tradition becomes more dependent upon the creative hermeneutic of contemporary interpreters. Tradition in the modern world loses its legitimacy of simply being valid because it is the way of the past. The legitimacy of tradition rests now with resourceful and creative appropriations of it in view of the problems of meaning in the present."
--Seyla Benhabib, Situating the Self
You know, this somehow reminds me of Hegel. I'm not saying that Hegel is necessarily wrong. I think that this woman is very, very clever.
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Friday, October 30, 2009

“The world was so recent that many thing lacked names, and in order to indicate them it was necessary to point.” –Gabriel Garcia Marquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude
This captures both my love of names and naming and my aversion to people pointing (especially at me). Marquez is delightful.
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Old, But Wonderful, Quote
"Ah for the halcyon days of smoking on the porch, and other places (such as KRAKR JAK CIRCLE, or whatever horrendous way they spelled it), with Emily." --Percy
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Thursday, October 29, 2009
Long Twitter
I'm spending the afternoon at the best. coffee shop. ever.--Dillsburg, PA and the mountains are just out the window. And soon to see Parker.
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Gchat
When I couldn't understand something that Wystan was trying to explain (how defining nature as stable and knowable begs the question):
Wystan: imagine it as a dialogue:
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TSE
This is very interesting for several reasons, not the least of which is Eliot's own love for localism--his embrace of Anglicanism because he saw it as the Catholic Church in England. I can't imagine him wanting the unification of the individual and the unification of the world, unless of course, it was a sort of "multeity in unity" or something like that.
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Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Locke Seminar

In a discussion about how much work Locke's appeal to God does:
"He [Locke] doesn't mention Jesus in this reading."
"But you have to remember, the Church of England offers less focus on Jesus, Mary, and the saints than Catholicism."
...
Me: "How gross is it that he [Locke] ate an acorn?"
A student: "It isn't gross. Haven't you ever had acorn pancakes? The Indians made acorn pancakes."
Me: "Are you serious?" (skeptically)
The student: "Are you from Jersey?" (not believing that someone from a regular state would be this dense)
References to acorns punctuated the rest of our discussion. And then, after me not knowing about the process of freezing disrupting walls made out of rocks,
Another student: "Where are you from?"
Delightful.
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Saturday, October 24, 2009
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
The Proper Response

"Yes--if all goes well, if I have any money, & if nothing happens out of the ordinary happens personally, or nothing ordinary, like a war, happens impersonally--I'd like to go to Italy very much. In fact, I think I'd like to go & stay quite a while, about a year, and see southern Italy, hill towns, etc., then settle in Rome for a while." --Elizabeth Bishop's response
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