beautiful

the archivist March 8, 2010

For all the Russian literature I’ve studied, and the amount of time I devote to Blok, my strongest emotional attachments are to American poets (and the occasional Briton). I know I’ve posted plenty of Roethke here in the past, and truth be told, I should have done an English master’s and written about him. Would […]

the archivist January 16, 2010

This lovely series of drawings parallels my own changing relationship to the bean. “I must have been 5 when I first discovered the taste of coffee, when I was accidentally given a scoop of coffee ice cream. I was inconsolable: how could grown-ups ruin something as wonderful as ice cream with something as disgusting as […]

the archivist September 10, 2009

Arthur Hugh Clough (1819-1861) Say not the struggle naught availeth, The labour and the wounds are vain, The enemy faints not, nor faileth, And as things have been, things remain. If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars; It may be, in yon smoke concealed, Your comrades chase e’en now the fliers, And, but for […]

the archivist June 8, 2009

myvintagevogue I am smitten. Someone send me some trail mix, I think I will be spending a while here.

the archivist May 10, 2009

The Chilterns Rupert Brooke Your hands, my dear, adorable, Your lips of tenderness – Oh, I’ve loved you faithfully and well, Three years, or a bit less. It wasn’t a success. Thank God, that’s done! and I’ll take the road, Quit of my youth and you, The Roman road to Wendover By Tring and Lilley […]

the archivist July 27, 2008

http://garfieldminusgarfield.net/ The site description: Who would have guessed that when you remove Garfield from the Garfield comic strips, the result is an even better comic about schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and the empty desperation of modern life? Friends, meet Jon Arbuckle. Let’s laugh and learn with him on a journey deep into the tortured mind of […]

the archivist March 6, 2007

Ich habe dich nie je so geliebt Bertolt Brecht Ich habe dich nie je so geliebt, ma soeur Als wie ich fortging von dir in jenem Abendrot. Der Wald schluckte mich, der blaue Wald, ma soeur Über dem immer schon die bleichen Gestirne im Westen standen. Ich lachte kein klein wenig, gar nicht, ma soeur […]