Intro

O full-orb'd moon, did but thy rays

Their last upon mine anguish gaze!

Beside this desk, at dead of night,

Oft have I watched to hail thy light:

Then, pensive friend! o'er book and scroll,

With soothing power, thy radiance stole!

In thy dear light, ah, might I climb,

Freely, some mountain height sublime,

Round mountain caves with spirits ride,

In thy mild haze o'er meadows glide,

And, purged from knowledge-fumes, renew

My spirit, in thy healing dew!

Goethe: Faust I.

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

Cartwheels and Unappetizing Meals

The young American thirst washes the stomach of the congregation of vapors, the dilution of enzymes and acids and anything brushing the mucous of the stomach. Ice in the drinks, all the way up, it helps fight the sweetness. The changing of hands between cuts of the meat, a bizarre and obsolete practice, a throwback to pre-plumbing maybe. A royal defiance no American cares about, they just do it. Use your dominant hand for the cutting, the subserviant hand for the eating.

It is a beautiful thing to see people saying grace over a restaurant meal. How beautiful! Not that it should matter, that their beliefs should be adopted, but love that they are so invested.

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