Todays' Ishigura, from Remains of the Day:
It is my impression that our generation was the first to recognize something which had passed the notice of all previous generations: namely that the great decisions of the world are not, in fact, arrive at simply in the public chambers, or else during a handful of days given over to an international conference under the full gaze of the public and the press. Rather, debates are conducted, and crucial decisions arrived at, in the privacy and calm of the great houses of the country. What occurs under the public gaze with so much pomp and ceremony is often the conclusion, or mere ratification, of what has taken place over weeks or months within the walls of such houses. To us, then, the world was a wheel, revolving with these great houses as the hub, their mighty decisions emanating out to all else, rich and poor, who revolved around them. It was the aspiration of all those of us with professional ambition to work our way as close to this hub and were each of us capable. For we were, as I say, an idealistic generation for whom the question was not simply one of how well one practiced one's skills, but to what end one did so; each of us haboured the desire to make our own small contribution to the creation of a better world, and saw that, as professionals, the surest means of doing so would be to serve the great gentlemen of our times in whose hands civilization had been entrusted.
- Frances, thank you for that bump, here's what happened: three dozen bumped through, none spent a clocked second, not a one clicked home to see more. I could have told you. Deep thanks still.
- Protecting powerful men, is God happy?
- The peasants should be revolting.
- How and what Obama won.
- We are the Lamest Generation.
- America's political soul.
- Operation Amnesia.
- Fracking our food supply.
- Nothing to see here. Don't even study it.
- Poison as food, poison as antidote.
- Human evolution enters an exciting time.
- Why Romney and his bankers never saw it coming.
- BTW, a pint to the first of you who sends me a link to a rightwinger talking about how Obama is going to circumvent the Constitution and grab a third term.
- Remember when Left Blegsylvania was saying the same thing about Bush in 2006? Good times!
- Sillyass Star Trek allusion of the day: Look at the last five posts - There. Are. Five. Comments.
- The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows. Now on Because Left blegrell.
- This Is the End, My Friend, a play in one-half act.
- The Heavenly City.
- darkblack's Weekend Overnight.
- Naomi Punk?
- New Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds!
- Prunella's latest playlist.
- Prunella has Kindly made her requests for upcoming PJ Harvey cascade, time still for you to get in yours.
- Mr Charlie suggests:
A BRIEF HISTORY OF MY LIFE PART VII
I can’t go to the east village anymore
because it is like going on a tour
of my worst dates. I get older, my heart
leaps at the sight of children
who don’t belong to me, I pronounce
everything like an Italian opera title.
I used to listen to songs and have someone
in mind for the you parts, now I just want
to be where the light is intense, I want
the kind of heat that kills you
if you drive into it unprepared. This
isn’t a metaphor for anything else.
When I speak of the light, I mean the light.
I go to church and sing along and feel
just as moved as if my faith were blind.
When I speak of the blind, I mean
the light. Truly the only things Lindsey Lohan and I
have in common are our preoccupations
with fame and weight loss, and yet I recognize
a kinship there, as if those two things mattered
more than anything. When I speak of
the darkness, I mean this living.
In a restaurant called Caracas,
I once spent fifteen minutes arguing
about an Ayn Rand book because
every time he said Anthem I thought
he meant We the Living and I said
what dystopia, what about the woman,
and he said what about the Home
of the Infants and I said what
Home of the Infants? What about
loving a man so much you’ll sleep
with another man in order to finance
the first man’s tuberculosis treatment?
Welcome to Russia, I said, and we
were looking at each other and then
not. I tried to picture Caracas, tried
to leave him for elsewhere, a fever.