is the word 'diary' better than the word 'blog'? probably not.
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Symposiums, Nostalgias, Attachments.
The Symposium I organized is over now. It went very well. But man, am I exhausted or what? I'll have to tell you the stories later. Today I have lots of work to do because of course lots of work wasn't getting done in the week leading up to the Symposium. But I am also tired and deserve a BREAK, so today I am going to do some reading for next week's teaching load, and then watch a lot of good television (shows stored up that I missed during all of the week's action) and then maybe I'll take one of those delicious couch naps a person can really sink into! Or work on my so-far-constantly-deferred etsy store! I have some great new necklaces to show you....
Right now I'm listening to Fountains of Wayne because today I miss Chris, because today I had brunch with Alison Young, who lived in Amherst while I lived in Amherst while Chris lived in Northampton. What a year of darkness and light that was. Gus joined Alison and I for brunch, and it was fun to see these two foxy important parts of two different eras of my life communicating with each other.
Chris has the sweetest singing voice ever, my speakers are reminding me. I like his voice in every one of its versions (and there are many) except when he imitates Billy Joel and actually sounds like Billy Joel. Luckily I don't think that one has ever been recorded (though it did once make me laugh so hard that I had to sit down on the floor in the middle of a crowded rock club). Anyway, the sweetness of Chris' voice makes it all the more funny that his sense of humor is so deeply dark and evil. The first time I met him (we were MUCH YOUNGER and) he said something that horrified everyone in the room except me, and he and I could not stop laughing for what seemed like way too long to everyone except him and me.
Remember, Traffic and Weather hits stores on Monday. That's TOMORROW.
On that topic, here's a music-geek funny but also strangely boring joke-song about fountains of wayne. it's no "the bootie don't stop."
BUT. Right now I want to give you some more POETRY. Because this poem I am about to give you is something I wanted to read (or perform, because you can't just READ it) at my Symposium, but then I opted for the more straightforward speechifying method. It's safer that way. And sometimes I do take the safe route.
The poem is by WH Auden: Law Like Love. I think it really does say just about everything I said in my introductory speechifying. At times the poem seems too rhyme-y verse-y, but if you think about what it accomplishes, basically outlining the history of arguments about what law is or ought to be, and ending with a profound commentary on why law matters to us and also why it fails, it is a pretty significant accomplishment of versification! So say I.
Law, say the gardeners, is the sun,
Law is the one
All gardeners obey
To-morrow, yesterday, to-day.
Law is the wisdom of the old,
The impotent grandfathers feebly scold;
The grandchildren put out a treble tongue,
Law is the senses of the young.
Law, says the priest with a priestly look,
Expounding to an unpriestly people,
Law is the words in my priestly book,
Law is my pulpit and my steeple.
Law, says the judge as he looks down his nose,
Speaking clearly and most severely,
Law is as I've told you before,
Law is as you know I suppose,
Law is but let me explain it once more,
Law is The Law.
Yet law-abiding scholars write:
Law is neither wrong nor right,
Law is only crimes
Punished by places and by times,
Law is the clothes men wear
Anytime, anywhere,
Law is Good morning and Good night.
Others say, Law is our Fate;
Others say, Law is our State;
Others say, others say
Law is no more,
Law has gone away.
And always the loud angry crowd,
Very angry and very loud,
Law is We,
And always the soft idiot softly Me.
If we, dear, know we know no more
Than they about the Law,
If I no more than you
Know what we should and should not do
Except that all agree
Gladly or miserably
That the Law is
And that all know this
If therefore thinking it absurd
To identify Law with some other word,
Unlike so many men
I cannot say Law is again,
No more than they can we suppress
The universal wish to guess
Or slip out of our own position
Into an unconcerned condition.
Although I can at least confine
Your vanity and mine
To stating timidly
A timid similarity,
We shall boast anyway:
Like love I say.
Like love we don't know where or why,
Like love we can't compel or fly,
Like love we often weep,
Like love we seldom keep.
12:28 p.m. - April 01, 2007
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