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Sugar
“The Oak Forest mushrooms for the langoustine didn't arrive in time, so we've substituted with enoki mushrooms from Champagne Farms. Also, we are adding an entrée to the menu tonight. It's lemon pine-nut-encrusted sea scallops with a celery mousse and my signature vinaigrette. It took three months to get it right, and the end result is phenomenal. So sell it." Alain paused while the servers took notes. "In wines, we're out of the Napa Valley El Molino, the Talenti, and the Chateau Margeaux '86."
Alain paused and, while the servers wrote furiously in their pads, my thoughts wandered. I tried picturing the customers who might have opinions about Oak Forest mushrooms compared to those from Champagne Farms. Did they wear tweed and bifocals? Or were they übermodern with sculpured haircuts and electronic cigarettes? I shook my head, annoyed with myself and my train of thought.
Let the mushroom people be mushroom people
, I chastised myself.
You signed up for this gig, Charlie, remember? You're living your dream, remember?
Alain changed gears for a second and threw out a quiz question, one of his more sadistic rituals during family meal. "What are the six ingredients in the jalapeño emulsion we serve with the salmon?"
Silence. A blonde in the back ventured, "Jalapeño, olive oil, shallots...?"
More silence.
"Fleur de sel, ground pepper, lemon juice," Alain finished for her, giving her an icy glance over his bearish nose. "Wake up, people. All right, here's an easy one. What's the difference between
jamón ibérico
and prosciutto?"
Four hands went up, and Wade got it right.
"
Jamón ibérico
is dry-cured from black Iberian pigs in Spain, not to be confused with
jamón serrano
, which comes from a less expensive white pig. Prosciutto is also dry-cured, but it is from Italy. It is the common man's gourmet ham, which is why we don't serve it." Wade finished with a cock of the head and a high-five with another server.
Alain snorted. "Thank you for the editorial comment. Please keep it to yourself, however, when recommending the melon and
jamón ibérico
appetizer."
He spent the next five minutes grilling the staff on the origin of our rice vinegar, what dessert wine paired best with Felix's raspberry brûlée, and the correct serving temperature of the parsnip purée.”
Questions
Foodie
Ingredients
Mushrooms
Wines
Ham
Restaurant Life
The Return of the Prodigal Son: A Story of Homecoming
“Durante mucho tiempo consideré la imagen negativa que tenía de mí como una virtud. Me habían prevenido tantas veces contra el orgullo y la vanidad que llegué a pensar que era bueno despreciarme a mí mismo. Ahora me doy cuenta de que el verdadero pecado consiste en negar el amor primero de Dios por mí, en ignorar mi bondad original. Porque, si no me apoyo en ese amor primero y en esa bondad original, pierdo el contacto con mi auténtico yo y me destruyo.”
Amor
Dios
Orgullo
Vanidad
Psicologia
Autoestima
Virtud
Pecado
Bondad
Católico
“On a number of occasions, Tamara joined “Che” on his sorties into the Bolivian highlands, without incident. However, on March 24, 1967, a guerrilla fighter who had been captured by the Bolivian army betrayed her by giving away Tamara’s location. Although she escaped, the Bolivian soldiers found an address book in her Jeep and came after her in hot pursuit. With no other place to hide, she made her way back to “Che” Guevara’s forces. It was considered an open secret that Tamara had been intimate with “Che” but now the troops could not help but notice what was going on. The way they looked into each other’s eyes, and whispered sweet nothings, left no doubt in anyone’s mind, but that she was his lover….
The Bolivian highlands are notorious for the infestation of the Chigoe flea parasite, which infected Tamara. Having a leg injury and running a high fever, she and 16 other ailing fighters were ordered out of the region by Guevara. On August 31, 1967, up to her waist in the Rio Grande of Bolivia, and holding her M 1 rifle above her head, she and eight men were shot and killed in a hail of gunfire by Bolivian soldiers. Leaving their bodies in the water, it was several days before they were recovered downstream. Piranhas had attacked the bodies and their decomposing carcasses were polluting the water. Since the water was being used for drinking purposes by the people in a nearby village, the soldiers were ordered to clear the bodies out of the river. As they were preparing to bury Tamara’s remains in an unmarked grave, a local woman protested what was happening, and demanded that a woman should receive a Christian burial.
When he received the news of what had happened, Guevara was stunned and refused to accept it, thinking it was just a propaganda stunt to demoralize him. In Havana Fidel Castro declared her a “Heroine of the Revolution.”
There is always the possibility that Tamara was a double agent, whose mission it was to play up to “Che” when they met in Leipzig and then report back to the DDR (Democratic German Republic), who would in turn inform the USSR of “Che’s” activities. The spy game is a little like peeling an onion. Peel off one layer and what you find is yet another layer.”
Women
Revolutionary War
Cuban History
Bolivian History
Dreams of the Dead
“Tell me you didn’t really watch Nausicaa.”
Miho tried to keep a serious face, which must have been difficult enough in her flannel Hello Kitty pajamas. But the girl was a terrible liar. She smirked.
“No. Kiki just ended. So much for our Miyazaki marathon.”
“We got through two movies,” Sakura said. “Tonight, that’s a marathon.”
They’d wanted to watch movies tonight, just to clear their minds, and had agreed on nothing violent. All three of them loved the films of Miyazaki, who had become perhaps the most successful director in Japan while making only animated films. Kara had vetoed Howl’s Moving Castle because she’d seen it too recently, and they had all seen My Neighbor Totoro far too many times, so they had started with Spirited Away.”
Miyazaki
Ghibli
Adina
“Her pretty name of Adina seemed to me to have somehow a mystic fitness to her personality.
Behind a cold shyness, there seemed to lurk a tremulous promise to be franker when she knew you better.
Adina is a strange child; she is fanciful without being capricious.
She was stout and fresh-coloured, she laughed and talked rather loud, and generally, in galleries and temples, caused a good many stiff British necks to turn round.
She had a mania for excursions, and at Frascati and Tivoli she inflicted her good-humoured ponderosity on diminutive donkeys with a relish which seemed to prove that a passion for scenery, like all our passions, is capable of making the best of us pitiless.
Adina may not have the shoulders of the Venus of Milo...but I hope it will take more than a bauble like this to make her stoop.
Adina espied the first violet of the year glimmering at the root of a cypress. She made haste to rise and gather it, and then wandered further, in the hope of giving it a few companions. Scrope sat and watched her as she moved slowly away, trailing her long shadow on the grass and drooping her head from side to side in her charming quest. It was not, I know, that he felt no impulse to join her; but that he was in love, for the moment, with looking at her from where he sat. Her search carried her some distance and at last she passed out of sight behind a bend in the villa wall.
I don't pretend to be sure that I was particularly struck, from this time forward, with something strange in our quiet Adina. She had always seemed to me vaguely, innocently strange; it was part of her charm that in the daily noiseless movement of her life a mystic undertone seemed to murmur "You don't half know me! Perhaps we three prosaic mortals were not quite worthy to know her: yet I believe that if a practised man of the world had whispered to me, one day, over his wine, after Miss Waddington had rustled away from the table, that there was a young lady who, sooner or later, would treat her friends to a first class surprise, I should have laid my finger on his sleeve and told him with a smile that he phrased my own thought. .."That beautiful girl," I said, "seems to me agitated and preoccupied."
"That beautiful girl is a puzzle. I don't know what's the matter with her; it's all very painful; she's a very strange creature. I never dreamed there was an obstacle to our happiness--to our union. She has never protested and promised; it's not her way, nor her nature; she is always humble, passive, gentle; but always extremely grateful for every sign of tenderness. Till within three or four days ago, she seemed to me more so than ever; her habitual gentleness took the form of a sort of shrinking, almost suffering, deprecation of my attentions, my petits soins, my lovers nonsense. It was as if they oppressed and mortified her--and she would have liked me to bear more lightly. I did not see directly that it was not the excess of my devotion, but my devotion itself--the very fact of my love and her engagement that pained her. When I did it was a blow in the face. I don't know what under heaven I've done! Women are fathomless creatures. And yet Adina is not capricious, in the common sense...
.So these are peines d'amour?" he went on, after brooding a moment. "I didn't know how fiercely I was in love!"
Scrope stood staring at her as she thrust out the crumpled note: that she meant that Adina--that Adina had left us in the night--was too large a horror for his unprepared sense...."Good-bye to everything! Think me crazy if you will. I could never explain. Only forget me and believe that I am happy, happy, happy! Adina Beati."...
Love is said to be par excellence the egotistical passion; if so Adina was far gone. "I can't promise to forget you," I said; "you and my friend here deserve to be remembered!”
Adina
A Court of Silver Flames
“She knew she was going into that Cauldron. Knew she would lose this fight.
Knew no one was going to save her: not sobbing Feyre, not Feyre's gagged former lover, nor her devastated new mate. Not Cassian, broken and bleeding on the floor. The warrior was still trying to rise on trembling arms. To reach her.
The King of Hybern- he had done this. To Elain. To Cassian.
And to her.
The icy water bit into the soles of her feet.
It was a kiss of venom, a death so permanent that every inch of her roared in defiance.
She was going in- but she would not go gently.
The water gripped her ankles with phantom talons, tugging her down. She twisted, wrenching her arm free from the guard who held it.
And Nesta Archeron pointed. One finger- at the King of Hybern.
A death-promise. A target marked.
Hands shoved her into the water's waiting claws.
Nesta laughed at the fear that crept into the king's eyes just before the water devoured her whole.
In the beginning.
And in the end.
There was darkness.
And nothing more.
She did not feel the cold as she sank into a sea that had no bottom, no horizon, no surface. But she felt the burning.
Immortality was not a serene youth
It was fire.
It was molten ore poured into her veins, boiling her human blood until it was nothing but steam, forging her brittle bones until they were fresh steel.
And when she opened her mouth to scream, when the pain ripped her very self in two, there was no sound. There was nothing in this place but darkness and agony and power-
They would pay. All of them.
Staring with the Cauldron.
Starting now.
She tore into the darkness with talons and teeth. Rent and cleaved and shredded.
And the dark eternity around her shuddered. Bucked. Thrashed.
She laughed as it recoiled. Laughed around the mouthful of raw power she ripped out and swallowed whole; laughed at the fistfuls of eternity she shoved into her heart, her veins.
The Cauldron struggled like a bird under a cat's paw. She refused to relent.
Everything it had stolen from her, from Elain, she would take from it.
Wrapped in black eternity, Nesta and the Cauldron twined, burning through the darkness like a newborn star.”
Sarah J Maas
Cassian
Nesta Archeron
Nesta
Feyre Archeron
A Court Of Silver Flames
Elain Archeron
The King Of Hybern
The Cauldron
Putting Up A Fight
The Mass of All Time: The Hidden Treasure
“We can never show enough reverence, nor ever worship the Eucharist with adequately heartfelt veneration. That is why throughout the ages it has been the custom in the Church to receive the Holy Eucharist kneeling. We should receive the Holy Eucharist prostrate and not standing. Are we the equals of Our Lord Jesus Christ? Is it not He who will come upon the clouds of heaven to be our Judge? When we see Our Lord Jesus Christ, shall we not do as did the Apostles on Thabor when they prostrated themselves on the ground in terror and wonder at the greatness and splendor of Our Lord Jesus Christ? Let us keep in our hearts and souls that spirit of worship, that spirit of profound reverence for Him who created us, for Him who redeemed us, for Him who died on the Cross for our sins.”
Catholicism
Catholic
Catholic Mass
Eucharist
Catholic Tradition
Eucharistic Adoration
Bottom of the Pot: Persian Recipes and Stories
“Rice is the crown jewel of Persian cuisine.”
Food
Iran
Cooking
Rice
Iranian Cuisine
Persian Cuisine
Pearls Before Swine
“Is the drive to refuse gay blood motivated by a fear of contracting HIV/AIDS, or does it speak of the irrational fear that receiving blood from gay people will somehow make them gay?”
Blood
Gay
Is
Hiv Aids
A Fear
From Gay
Speak Of
The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark
“Si uno crece en una casa donde hay libros, donde alguien le lee, donde padres, hermanos, tías, tíos y primos leen por placer, es natural que aprenda a leer. Si no hay nadie cerca que disfrute leyendo, ¿dónde está la prueba de que vale la pena?”
Literature
Leer
Libros
Familia
Lectura
Biblioteca
Libreria
America Before: The Key to Earth's Lost Civilization
“[The cosmic impact that started the Younger Dryas] marked the end of their story, and the end of an epoch, really. There's not a single Clovis point found anywhere in North America that's above that black mat. They're all in it or below it. And there's not a single mammoth skeleton anywhere in North America that's above it. A huge part of the die-off could have been as a direct result of the impacts themselves, but impacts and airbursts south of the ice cap, particularly as far south as New Mexico, would also have set off wildfires. There's overwhelming evidence that gigantic wildfires raged at the onset of the Younger Dryas--in fact, more soot has been found at the Younger Dryas Boundary than at the Cretaceous-Paleogene Boundary. We did the calculations and it looks like as much as 25 percent of the edible biomass and around 9 percent of the total biomass of the planet was on fire and destroyed within days or weeks of the YDB. So in many areas if the animals weren't killed outright they wouldn't have been able to forage enough food afterwards to survive. The grass would have burned up, leaves on trees were gone. ... And you know, the other thing is that when comet fragments come in they're traveling incredibly fast and they literally punch a hole in the atmosphere. They actually push the air aside and they bring in that super cold from space, and when they explode in the air that cold plume continues to the ground and you literally have things frozen in place if they were close enough to where the plume came down. It's possible they were fried and then frozen all within a matter of seconds.”
Evidence
Epoch
Wildfires
Cataclysm
Paleontology
Younger Dryas
Cosmic Impact
Persuasion
“Não posso mais escutar em silêncio. Preciso lhe falar com os meios dos quais disponho. A senhorita me dilacera a alma. Estou dividido entre a agonia e a esperança. Não me diga que chego tarde, que aqueles tão preciosos sentimentos desapareceram para sempre. Ofereço-me outra vez à senhorita com um coração ainda mais seu do que quando a senhora quase o partiu, a oito anos e meio atrás. Não se atreva a dizer que o homem esquece com mais facilidade do que a mulher, que o seu amor morre mais cedo. Nunca amei ninguém além da senhorita.”
Amor
Paixão
Declaração
“Je me redisais en étouffant mes sanglots les mots où Gilberte avait laissé éclater sa joie de ne pas venir de longtemps aux Champs-Élysées. Mais déjà le charme dont, par son simple fonctionnement, se remplissait mon esprit dès qu'il songeait à elle, la position particulière, unique,—fût elle affligeante,—où me plaçait inévitablement par rapport à Gilberte, la contrainte interne d'un pli mental, avaient commencé à ajouter, même à cette marque d'indifférence, quelque chose de romanesque, et au milieu de mes larmes se formait un sourire qui n'était que l'ébauche timide d'un baiser. Et quand vint l'heure du courrier, je me dis ce soir-là comme tous les autres: Je vais recevoir une lettre de Gilberte, elle va me dire enfin qu'elle n'a jamais cessé de m'aimer, et m'expliquera la raison mystérieuse pour laquelle elle a été forcée de me le cacher jusqu'ici, de faire semblant de pouvoir être heureuse sans me voir, la raison pour laquelle elle a pris l'apparence de la Gilberte simple camarade.
Tous les soirs je me plaisais à imaginer cette lettre, je croyais la lire, je m'en récitais chaque phrase. Tout d'un coup je m'arrêtais effrayé. Je comprenais que si je devais recevoir une lettre de Gilberte, ce ne pourrait pas en tous cas être celle-là puisque c'était moi qui venais de la composer. Et dès lors, je m'efforçais de détourner ma pensée des mots que j'aurais aimé qu'elle m'écrivît, par peur en les énonçant, d'exclure justement ceux-là,—les plus chers, les plus désirés—, du champ des réalisations possibles. Même si par une invraisemblable coïncidence, c'eût été justement la lettre que j'avais inventée que de son côté m'eût adressée Gilberte, y reconnaissant mon œuvre je n'eusse pas eu l'impression de recevoir quelque chose qui ne vînt pas de moi, quelque chose de réel, de nouveau, un bonheur extérieur à mon esprit, indépendant de ma volonté, vraiment donné par l'amour.”
Love
Magical Thinking
“Post-Rehab Advice: 5 Things to Do After Getting Out of Rehab
Getting yourself into rehab is not the easiest thing to do, but it is certainly one of the most important things you can ever do for your well-being. However, your journey to self-healing does not simply end on your last day at rehab. Now that you have committed your self to sobriety and wellness, the next step is maintaining the new life you have built.
To make sure that you are on the right track, here are some tips on what you should do as soon as you get back home from treatment.
1. Have a Game Plan
Most people are encouraged to leave rehab with a proper recovery plan. What’s next for you? Envision how you want yourself to be after the inpatient treatment. This is a crucial part of the entire recovery process since it will be easier to determine the next phase of treatment you need.
2. Build Your New Social Life
Finishing rehab opens endless opportunities for you. Use it to put yourself out in the world and maybe even pursue a new passion in life. Keep in mind that there are a lot of alcohol- and drug-free activities that offer a social and mental outlet. Meet new friends by playing sports, taking a class or volunteering. It is also a good opportunity for you to have sober friends who can help you through your recovery.
3. Keep Yourself Busy
One of the struggles after rehab is finding purpose. Your life in recovery will obviously center on trying to stay sober. To remain sober in the long term, you must have a life that’s worth living. What drives you? Begin finding your purpose by trying out things that make you productive and satisfied at the same time. Get a new job, do volunteer work or go back to school. Try whatever is interesting for you.
4. Pay It Forward
As a person who has gone through rehab, you are in the perfect place to help those who are in the early stages of recovery. Join a support group and do not be afraid to tell your story. Reaching out to other recovering individuals will also help keep your mind off your own struggles, while being an inspiration to others.
5. Get Help If You’re Still Struggling
Research proves that about half of those in recovery will relapse, usually within the treatment’s first few months. However, these numbers do not necessarily mean that rehab is a waste of time. Similar to those with physical disabilities who need continuous therapy, individuals recovering from addiction also require ongoing support to stay clean and sober.
Are you slipping back to your old ways? Do not let pride or shame take control of your mind. Life throws you a curveball sometimes, and slipping back to old patterns does not mean you are hopeless. Be sure to have a sober friend, family, therapist or sponsor you could trust and call in case you are struggling. Remember that building a drug- and alcohol-free life is no walk in the park, but you will likely get through it with the help of those who are dear to you.”
Treatment
On the Shortness of Life
“El tiempo que tenemos no es corto; pero perdiendo mucho de él, hacemos que lo sea, y la vida es suficientemente larga para ejecutar en ella cosas grandes, si la empleáremos bien. Pero al que se le pasa en ocio y en deleites, y no la ocupa en loables ejercicios, cuando le llega el último trance, conocemos que se le fue sin que él haya entendido que caminaba. Lo cierto es que la vida que se nos dio no es breve, nosotros hacemos que lo sea; y que no somos pobres, sino pródigos del tiempo; sucediendo lo que a las grandes y reales riquezas, que si llegan a manos de dueños poco cuerdos se disipan en un instante; y al contrario las cortas y limitadas, entrando en poder de próvidos administradores, crecen con el uso. Así nuestra edad tiene mucha latitud para los que usaren bien de ella.”
Tiempo
Eficiencia
Industria
Eficacia
1984
“Cuando iban por ti era siempre de noche. Siempre de noche. Lo mejor era suicidarse antes de que lo detuvieran a uno. Sin duda había gente que lo hacía. Muchas de las desapariciones eran suicidios. Pero hacía falta valor para matarse en un mundo en el que resultaba imposible conseguir armas de fuego o cualquier veneno eficaz y mortífero. Pensó con una especie de perplejidad en la inutilidad biológica del miedo y del dolor, la traición del cuerpo humano que siempre se queda paralizado en el preciso instante en que es necesario hacer un esfuerzo especial [...].Se le ocurrió que en los momentos de crisis uno nunca lucha contra un enemigo externo, sino contra su propio cuerpo [...]. Y lo mismo ocurre, comprendió, en todas las situaciones aparentemente trágicas o heroicas. En el campo de batalla, en la cámara de tortura, en un barco que se hunde, los motivos por los que uno lucha pasan a un segundo plano porque el cuerpo llena el universo, e incluso cuando no estás paralizado por el miedo o gritando de dolor, la vida es una lucha momentánea contra el hambre, el frío o el sueño, contra un dolor de estómago o de muelas.”
1984
“Lieutenant Fielding was a relatively young teacher who taught Latin and Greek History. He was friendlier than most teachers and encouraged his students to come back to his classroom after hours for additional insight. I remember him professing that the Greeks placed great emphasis on the human body, especially that of men. He also explained that students and teachers should develop a very special bond, supposedly for their enhanced mutual benefit. His philosophy was based on Pederasty as it was practiced in Ancient Greece and, for Fielding; it provided an entrance into a form of ritualistic military life, and the religion of Zeus.
At the time I had no inkling what he was talking about, but it didn’t take me long to figure out that he was “gay,” a term not used at the time. However, some students didn’t mind his advances and got unusually high grades, until one day he left without notice. Some of those students who received the extra help were either pulled out of school by their parents or asked to leave by the school’s administrators. In 1952 there was little tolerance for the alternate life style that Lieutenant Fielding was promoting!”
Gays
Teaching
Greek History
“It wasn’t until the ship returned to Castine that my infraction came up as an issue to be dealt with. Once again, I sought out the council of my friendly advisor, Commander Jameson, who surprisingly had a few choice words to say and then advised that I write a statement blaming this mess on my youth and immaturity. I personally didn’t like the idea but followed his advice, along with a plea for clemency. Two long weeks later, I found myself in front of RearAdmiral William W. Warlick USN Ret. I really didn’t know what to expect. The two midshipmen that preceded me into his office were both expelled, for what seemed a minor infraction. I guess that when my turn came, he just gave up on being a hardnosed admiral. Looking me in the eye, he asked if I had learned my lesson. When I said, “Yes sir,” he waved me off with a “Don’t let me see you again.” I later learned that Jameson had talked to him, paving the way for me….”
Maine
Captain Hank Bracker
Sea Stories
Maine Maritime Academy
Maine History
Dead Toad Scrolls
“We measure time through a mental framework trussed with two major stakes: memory and expectation. Memory is that spottiness that takes place behind the eyes: memory takes place in the cloistered theater that houses diffused still pictures. We file mental pictures that encapsulate our prior life into mental shelves for a wayward librarian to cull through and forward select recollection to the recall center whenever summoned. Expectations arise from thoughtful consideration of our future prospects in life.”
Hope
Time
Memory
Recollection
Time Quotes
Expectations
Hopeful
Expectation
Hopeful Quotes
Human Consciousness
Recollections
Árbol de Diana
“«Extraño desacostumbrarme
de la hora en que nací.
Extraño no ejercer más
oficio de recién llegada.»”
Muerte
Soledad
Pizarnik
Nacimiento
Inward and Toward
“Between concentric pavement ripples glide errant echoes originating from beyond the Puddled Metropolis. Windowless blocks and pickle-shaped monuments demarcate the boundaries of patternistic cycles from those wilds kissed neither by starlight nor moonlight. Lethal underbrush of razor-like excrescence pierces at the skins of night, crawls with hyperactive sprouts and verminous vines that howl with contempt for the wicked fortunes of Marshland Organizers armed with scythes and hoes and flaming torches who have only succeeded in crafting their own folly where once stood something of glorious and generous integrity. There are familiar whispers under leaves perched upon by flapping moths. They implore the spirit again to heed the warnings of the vines and to not be swayed by the hubris of these organizing opportunists. One is to stop moving at frantic zigzags through gridlocked streets, stop climbing ladders altogether, stop relying on drainage pipes where floods should prevail, stop tapping one’s feet in waiting rooms expecting to be seen and examined and acknowledged. Rather, one is to eschew unseemly fabrications and conceal oneself beneath the surface of leaves—perhaps even inside the droplets of dew—one is, after all, to feel shameful of the form, of all forms, and seek instead to merge with whispers which do not shun or excoriate, for they are otherwise occupied in the act of designating meaning. Yet, what meaning stands beyond the rectitude of angles and symmetry, but rather in wilds among agitated insects and resplendent bogs and malicious spiders and rippling mosses pronouncing doom upon their surroundings? One is said to find only the same degree of opportunism, and nothing greatly edifying that could serve to extend beyond the banalities of self-preservation. But no, surely there is something more than this—there absolutely must be something more, and it is to be found! Forget what is said about ‘opportunism’—this is just a word and, thusly, a distraction. The key issue is that there are many such campaigns of contrivance mounted by the taxonomic self-interest of categories and frameworks ‘who’ only seek primacy and authority over their consumers. The ascription of ‘this’ may thusly be ascribed also with that of ‘this other’ and so it cannot be ‘that precisely’ because ‘this’ contradicts another ‘that other’ with which ‘this other’ surely claims affiliation. Certainly, in view of such limiting factors, there is a frustration that one is bound to feel that the answers available are constrained and formulaic and insufficient and that one is simply to accept the way of things as though they are defined by the highest of mathematics and do not beget anything higher. One is, thusly, to cease in one’s quest for unexplored possibility. The lines have been drawn, the contradictions defined and so one cannot expect to go very far with these mathematical rules and boundaries in place. There are ways out: one might assume the value of an imaginary unit and bounce out of any restrictive quadrant as with the errant echoes against the rippling pavement of this Puddled Metropolis. One will then experience something akin to a bounding and rebounding leap—iterative, but with all subleaps constituting a more sweeping trajectory—outward to other landscapes and null landscapes, inward through corridors and toward the centroid of circumcentric chamber clusters, into crevices and trenches between paradigms and over those mountain peaks of abstruse calculation.”
Authority
Transcendentalism
Taxonomy
Opportunism
Mathematics And Poetry
Tangibility
Paradigm
Centroid
Limiting Factors
Aprendre a parlar amb les plantes
“Els records són mal·leables i és fàcil corregir-los, un pot retallar-ne les engrunes i posar-hi un altre fons, sucumbir als vicis dels nostres temps i retocar-los, jugar amb filtres que els embelleixin i fer-se un passat a mida per encarar un present de carn i ossos on no cal ser tan intransigent perquè ningú es colarà dins la nostra soledat per recordar-nos que aquella ombra no hi era i que aquell racó estava més il·luminat.”
Memories
Luto
The Anti-Social Family
“Page 78
The family sucks the juice out of everything around it, leaving other institutions stunted and distorted.
Page 75
Deep-seated differences between the sexes do tend to be reproduced from generation to generation by the fact that children are reared by a pair of differentiated parents and the parameters of their sexual orientation are set in the context of their early relations with those parents. But our unbalanced pattern of sexuality is also an integral part of a thriving marriage system that still enshrines male power and female dependence. Until that form of family disappears, sexual enjoyment will continue to be a male privilege and it will continue to take the form of sexual possession. Clearly, then, it remains necessary, as the early socialists recognized, to separate sex love from these economic ties and allow it to flourish in its own right.
Page 52-53
The Oneida community, founded in New York State in 1848, consciously rejected the family and marriage as being inimical to a full communal life. The biblical text, ‘In heaven they neither marry nor are given in marriage’, was taken as justification for ‘complex marriage’ in which all the men and women of the community were joined. Heterosexual relations between any of them were encouraged; long-term pairing was discouraged. Children were cared for in a children’s house soon after they were weaned, visiting their own parents only once or twice a week. Their founder John Humphrey Noyes saw a very clear contradiction between intense family feelings and community feeling. He believed that ‘the great problem of socialism now is, whether the existence of the marital family is compatible with that of the universal family, which the term “community” signifies.”
Family
Marxism
Patriarchy
Sex With God: Meditations on the sacred nature of sex in a post-purity-culture world
“Sacred sexuality is a dance of offering rather than demanding. A dance of giving and receiving, one with the other, and back again.”
Sex
Sexuality Quotes
The Color of Law: A Forgotten History of How Our Government Segregated America
“In New Jersey, for example, Governor Harold Hoffman refused to allow any camps for African American corps members because of what he termed “local resentment.” The national CCC director, Robert Fechner, implemented a policy never to “force colored companies on localities that have openly declared their opposition to them.”
Segregation
Public Housing
Civilian Conservation Corp
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