Wednesday, May 16, 2007

Our Heroine is Humbled by a Fish

I don't know who is this bloke Matthew Fish, but he's Catholic and wicked smart. His review of last Sunday's The Sopranos was awesome and addictive, and I don't even watch the show!

Bonus, his review mentioned Walker Percy, and in this one sentence Fish clarified everything I'd ever read by him, and never quite grasped.

Walker Percy spent his life as a philosopher and a novelist pointing out how we cannot objectify or figure out the self; despite all the knowledge of science, man remains just as much a mystery to himself, nor can he save himself from his own despair, the eventual inanity and boredom of a vain life.

Saturday, May 12, 2007

Our Heroine Likes Puppies and Ice Cream Too

I had heard that this happened, and I searched the internet for a whole afternoon looking for it with no luck. I should have known to check American Papist first.

Anyway....GROUP HUG!


Pope Benedict XVI hugs children during a visit to a drug rehabilitation center called 'Fazenda da Esperanca' or Farm of Hope in Guaratingueta, Brazil, Saturday, May 12, 2007. (AP Photo/Ricardo Mazalan)


Ok, ok, maybe this one got me a little choked up too...so what?


Our Heroine, Like Sartre, Seeks a Single Recipe Which Will, by Itself, Embody the Plight of Man in a World Ruled by an Unfeeling God...

...as well as providing the eater with at least one ingredient from each of the four basic food groups.


We have been lucky to discover several previously lost diaries of French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre stuck in between the cushions of our office sofa. These diaries reveal a young Sartre obsessed not with the void, but with food. Apparently Sartre, before discovering philosophy, had hoped to write "a cookbook that will put to rest all notions of flavor forever." The diaries are excerpted here for your perusal.

October 3
Spoke with Camus today about my cookbook. Though he has never actually eaten, he gave me much encouragement. I rushed home immediately to begin work. How excited I am! I have begun my formula for a Denver omelet.

October 4
Still working on the omelet. There have been stumbling blocks. I keep creating omelets one after another, like soldiers marching into the sea, but each one seems empty, hollow, like stone. I want to create an omelet that expresses the meaninglessness of existence, and instead they taste like cheese. I look at them on the plate, but they do not look back. Tried eating them with the lights off. It did not help. Malraux suggested paprika.

October 6
I have realized that the traditional omelet form (eggs and cheese) is bourgeois. Today I tried making one out of cigarette, some coffee, and four tiny stones. I fed it to Malraux, who puked. I am encouraged, but my journey is still long.

October 10
I find myself trying ever more radical interpretations of traditional dishes, in an effort to somehow express the void I feel so acutely. Today I tried this recipe:
Tuna Casserole
Ingredients: 1 large casserole dish

Place the casserole dish in a cold oven. Place a chair facing the oven and sit in it forever. Think about how hungry you are. When night falls, do not turn on the light.

While a void is expressed in this recipe, I am struck by its inapplicability to the bourgeois lifestyle. How can the eater recognize that the food denied him is a tuna casserole and not some other dish? I am becoming more and more frustated.

October 25
I have been forced to abandon the project of producing an entire cookbook. Rather, I now seek a single recipe which will, by itself, embody the plight of man in a world ruled by an unfeeling God, as well as providing the eater with at least one ingredient from each of the four basic food groups. To this end, I purchased six hundred pounds of foodstuffs from the corner grocery and locked myself in the kitchen, refusing to admit anyone. After several weeks of work, I produced a recipe calling for two eggs, half a cup of flour, four tons of beef, and a leek. While this is a start, I am afraid I still have much work ahead.

November 15
Today I made a Black Forest cake out of five pounds of cherries and a live beaver, challenging the very definition of the word cake. I was very pleased. Malraux said he admired it greatly, but could not stay for dessert. Still, I feel that this may be my most profound achievement yet, and have resolved to enter it in the Betty Crocker Bake-Off.

November 30
Today was the day of the Bake-Off. Alas, things did not go as I had hoped. During the judging, the beaver became agitated and bit Betty Crocker on the wrist. The beaver's powerful jaws are capable of felling blue spruce in less than ten minutes and proved, needless to say, more than a match for the tender limbs of America's favorite homemaker. I only got third place. Moreover, I am now the subject of a rather nasty lawsuit.

December 1
I have been gaining twenty-five pounds a week for two months, and I am now experiencing light tides. It is stupid to be so fat. My pain and ultimate solitude are still as authentic as they were when I was thin, but seem to impress girls far less. From now on, I will live on cigarettes and black coffee.

The Jean-Paul Sartre Cookbook
by Marty Smith, Portland OR
from Free Agent March 1987 (a Portland Oregon alternative newspaper),
Republished in the Utne Reader Nov./Dec. 1993

Thursday, May 10, 2007

Our Heroine Asks, "What Could Be More Ascetical, Than a Savage Beatdown?"

I think my favorite line is, "You profess Chalcedon,
Or you take a beatin'."

Y'all, the future looks bright!

Thursday, May 3, 2007

Our Heroine Regrets that Anthony Cooper Will Not Be Sacrificed Tonight for Your Viewing Pleasure

Y'all, I am so frustrated with tonight's episode of Lost. No doubt there are bloggers out there writing screeds about what happened. Here are just a few of my thoughts as bullets (Warning: Spoilers):


  • The producers have repeatedly denied that the island's inhabitants are dead and living in Heaven/Purgatory/Hell/etc. So why do they keep feinting in that direction? I am specifically referring to Anthony Cooper's insistence tonight that they were all in Hell.

  • When did Cooper develop a Southern accent? He never had one in all the eps we've seen him in, and he suddenly developed one while talking to Sawyer. I know it was supposed to convince me that he's the con who scammed Sawyer's parents, but it called too much attention to itself.

  • If Sawyer killing Cooper fulfilled the requirements of Ben's "test," than anyone killing Cooper should have fulfilled it. Why didn't the Others just kill him if the real crux was just that Locke's. Dad. had. to. die, not that Locke hisself do the killin'?


I know the Others are supposed to be mysterious and creepy, but the writers have succeeded in only making them ridiculous, like kids playing spy-games. The most affecting episodes remain those that focus on the Losties grappling with the terrifying dangers of the Island itself. I hope the last three episodes focus more on that than the faux threat of the Others.

Our Heroine Tells The Target

JAPANESE ARCHERY (H/T Alias Clio)

1.
The hand tells the bowstring:
Obey me.

The bowstring answers the hand:
Draw valiantly.

The bowstring tells the arrow:
O arrow, fly.

The arrow answers the bowstring:
Speed my flight.

The arrow tells the target:
Be my light.

The target answers the arrow:
Love me.

2.
The target tells arrow, bowstring, hand and eye:
Ta twam asi.

Which means in a sacred tongue:
I am thou.

3.
(Footnote of a Christian:
O Mother of God,

watch over the target, the bow, the arrow
and the archer).

Aleksander Wat

Translated by Richard Laurie
From My Century: The Odyssey of a Polish Intellectual. New York and London: Norton, 1988.

Tuesday, May 1, 2007

Our Heroine Don't Tolerate

...Unless what I'm being asked to tolerate is Lyle Lovett!! Here is something about our heroine that you may not know. I love Lyle. I really love him. My friend BMT can attest to this, she spent a hiking trip with me out West in which I sort of, maybe, forced her to listen to The Road to Ensenada and My Baby Don't Tolerate about, say, a katrillion times. To the point where for her own sanity she had to lash out at me with the cruel words, "His songs all sound alike."

There was much pouting in the car after that.

Anyhoodle..I have been waiting for 3 years for Lyle (I call him Lyle, people, deal with it) to perform in NYC. The last time he was here was 2004 when he performed in Battery Park for the Fourth of July. I wore a giant straw hat and sang my head off. Now he's performing with another fave, k.d. lang, on June 21 at Radio City Music Hall, and my trusty partner in country-music crime, kherman, is going with me.

Fortunately, this will not impact my continued reading of The Iliad at all. I repeat, The Iliad will not be interrupted for this concert. It will be interrupted for a thousand other things, like my Shakespeare class, or Father A's reading group, or my new copy of The Violent Bear It Away (thanks, MM!), but it will not be Lyle's fault. He is merely, well, I'll let him tell you himself:

Well I'm a long tall Texan
I wear a ten-gallon hat
Yes I'm a long tall Texan
I wear a ten-gallon hat
Well people look at me and they say
Is that your hat?