Archive for October 2005
What are we looking for? Nameless objects with paths
– from The World Cannot Be Overcome By The Analogue “I”, by the Australian poet John Anderson.
Tearing off the cardboard and singing to the crockery / A limber spot in the limberlost
The Shadow’s Keep, Black Pepper, 1997.
Meanwile, overheard, in passing:
Laminaria digitata, a kelp: “…the blade is undivided and has regular, small depressions. Habitat: very common in the lower intertidal and shallow subtidal growing on rock. May form extensive meadows at low water…”
Interlocutor: “You know, for a seaweed, you have a pretty good grasp on the lingo…”
LD: “I do have a claw-like holdfast, yes…”
Lastly, may I present Batmemes, an extremely limber text-permutation thingy, which you can download and play with for a couple of weeks for nothing, after which it’s only $15 to keep. And, by way of Batmemes’ extraordinarily extensive vocabulary, Ninhursag, a lady whose existence I had, temporarily, forgotten.
Again, from the ILN Picture Library, as below. A great deal of the things to be found there are delightfully quirky.
In the 1950s, in Adelaide, reading about “black bread” sounded not tasty at all, but peasant-poor, positively wretched; in a Russian novel it coloured the domestic scene – made it extra-foreign. Where else in literature do you find a languid landowner pondering a pleasantly wasted life, while at the same time reaching out, as if for another slice of sturgeon, for some essential, life-saving truth?
The Australian novelist Murray Bail, writing in The Guardian.
Via a post by languagehat at metafilter, I am pleased to present Explorion, where you can find complete texts of such travel and exploration classics as Hakluyt’s Voyages, W. H. Hudson’s The Naturalist in La Plata, and Lafcadio Hearn’s Glimpses of an Unfamiliar Japan, and many more besides.
This from Hudson:
In Buenos Ayres, the land of my nativity, earth teems with these interesting little creatures. They abound in and on the water, they swarm in the grass and herbage, which everywhere glistens with the silvery veil they spin over it. Indeed it is scarcely an exaggeration to say that there is an atmosphere of spiders, for they are always floating about invisible in the air; their filmy threads are unfelt when they fly against you; and often enough you are not even aware of the little arrested aeronaut hurrying over your face with feet lighter than the lightest thistledown.
Thanks to Charles of six different ways, I learn that the man in the eyepatch was, in fact, dreamed up for Maine-based shirt manufacturer Hathaway by adman David Ogilvy:
The campaign began in 1951, ran for 25 years, and obviously, in its later stages, burned its way deeply into my impressionable, childish mind…