happilyeverafterattheend said: We didn’t even get to catch up. D= Have fun, mate!
I have a six and a half hour drive tomorrow! My phone is still in service!
“The conversation didn’t stop so much as recede beneath the threshold of perceptibility. Maybe to distance myself from the morning’s anxiety, I removed the blue pill from the inside pocket of my coat and tried to crush it, which I couldn’t do, but with two hands I succeeded in breaking it in half. I absentmindedly tossed the halves onto the sidewalk in front of me, at which point a nearby pigeon approached it, no doubt accustomed to being fed by tourists from this bench. What is the effect of sildenafil citrate on stout-bodied passerines? I stood and tried to shoo the bird away; it startled, but then turned back and quickly ate a half before I managed to intervene.”
—Ben Lerner, from “False Spring”
Art Credit Pat Steir
Farm life
Hey, friends—
I know the blog’s been slow lately (odd, right? it’s summer, so I have less incentive to procrastinate and to sulk about The Paris Review site), but I’m starting a summer position up in rural Maine tomorrow, where ‘net access may or may not be happening. I’m pretty terribleat queuing so I’m afraid we might be pretty empty for a while, but I hope you don’t abandon us! We’ll be back for the start of term with the usual soup of 19th century naturalism, nature writing, and Fitzgerald fanaticism.
So looking forward to all of these - though I’m still not convinced by the Coriolanus casting yet.NT Live shows on my ‘To Watch’ list » Coriolanus, Macbeth & Othello
Don’t forget the encore screening of Hamlet! I saw it the first time round and it was AMAZING. I liked Rory Kinnear’s Hamlet even more than Tennant’s, and I love Tennant’s.
Does anybody know if the performances will eventually be released internationally, the way Tennant’s was (on DVD)?
(via this-new-romantic-way)
Carl Mydans - Vladimir Nabokov hunting butterflies (1958)
On Discovering a Butterfly
I found it and I named it, being versed
in taxonomic Latin; thus became
godfather to an insect and its first
describer — and I want no other fame.
Wide open on its pin (though fast asleep),
and safe from creeping relatives and rust,
in the secluded stronghold where we keep
type specimens it will transcend its dust.
Dark pictures, thrones, the stones that pilgrims kiss,
poems that take a thousand years to die
but ape the immortality of this
red label on a little butterfly.
- Vladimir Nabokov
(via endquestionmark)
