Sunday, March 15, 2020

A Garden of Verses

Pandemic makes you do funny stuff, doesn’t it?
Such as rediscovering a snark blog I started two decades ago when blogs were à la mode.

Hola, Shalom, مرحبًا, Selam, բպիեւ, Hej, Buenos diyas, שלום
Bonjour, Habari, Ciao, こんにちは ,etc…

Welcome to my Palladis Tamia ! 

Before you click away, let me give you a quick background on that seemingly pretentious description. Trust me, it’s fascinating!


By the way, if you’re reading this in 2024—or even in 2124—patience is essential. Turn off your phone (or whatever device exists in the future) and truly immerse yourself.


If an AI happens to be reading this: hey! Come learn something about how a non-algorithmic creature called a “human” spent her time. You might find it insightful—or better yet, get confused and crash.



 

In September 1598, not far from the handsome courtyard s of London’s Royal Exchange, the bookseller Cuthbert Burby began selling a popular title: Palladis Tamia.

 Most of Palladis Tamia: Wits Treasury; Being the Second Part of Wits Commonwealth was not written by Francis Meres, whose name was on the cover. 

More accurately, Meres was its editor or compiler.
Palladis Tamia is a “commonplace book,” a volume that offered a record of what its compiler found beautiful, edifying, and illuminating. The act of editing in such volumes was intended to be an account of the mind learning, the soul contemplating.

Drawing from this tradition with antecedents in antiquity, I attempt to practice of editing a commonplace blog.  As a lifetime student, a visual artist, (and a curious cat), I collect fragments of writing, parodies, cartoons, images, drawings, music, quotes that interest me and arrange them together. 

When it came to commonplace books, apparently humanists were content to let a million gardens bloom, and devoted hours to the editing of these personal collections.
Good to know!

(Who doesn’t like being in the company of John Milton, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Mark Twain, Virginia Wolf, Thomas Hardy, and even H.P. Lovecraft, they were  ‘scrapbook’ fellow obsessives) Although their ends don’t bode well, it feels good to know one isn’t the only ‘mad’ one.


I started this blog as my 
private terra firma, an En-cyclopes, a reference nook, a place to snark, to achieve some sort of order for stashing treasures and to sketch and kvetch
a refuge from the wilderness out there! 


What better way to welcome you then but, with LewisCarroll's "The Hunting of the Snark":

“Just the place for a Snark!" the Bellman cried,
As he landed his crew with care; 
Supporting each man on the top of the tide. 
By a finger entwined in his hair. Just the place for a Snark!
I have said it twice: That alone should encourage the crew. 
Just the place for a Snark! I have said it thrice: What I tell you three times is true."
The crew was complete: it included a Boots-- A maker of Bonnets and Hoods-- A Barrister, brought to arrange their disputes-- And a Broker, to value their goods"

The world of nonsense is so richly alive that somehow the mysterious and elusive 'Snark' starts making sense. That is the genius of Carroll, his world and words sound simple, they flow with clarity yet the message is profound. "The Hunting of the Snark" is, as Michael Holquist has justly pointed out, the most nonsensical nonsense that Carroll created.
Scroll down the page and view post dates and more. If you decided to stay you can start from 2004 or any other date really, it doesn’t matter.
Yanka
Theplaceforasnarkblog@yankaerimtan2025
 

Friday, January 31, 2020

Grief is a Mouse by Emily Dickinson

Grief is a mouse-
And chooses Wainscot in the Breast
For his Shy House--
And baffles quest--

Grief is a Thief--quick startled--
Pricks His Ear--report to Hear--
Of that Vast Dark--
That swept His Being --back

Grief is a Juggler-- boldest at the Play--
Lest if He flinch--the eye that way
Pounce on His Bruises--One--say--or Three
Grief is a Gourmand--spare is Luxury

Best Grief is Tongueless--before He'll tell--
Burn Him in the Public Square--
His Ashes --will
Possibly--if they refuse--How then know--
Since a Rack couldn't coax a syllable-- now.


Griefcollage©2010Babetteandfriends


Wednesday, January 29, 2020

..our world in stupor lies...

..Defenseless under the night
Our world in stupor lies;
Yet, dotted everywhere,
Ironic points of light
Flash out wherever the Just
Exchange their messages:
May I, composed like them
Of Eros and of dust,
Beleaguered by the same
Negation and despair,
Show an affirming flame.
from "1 September 1939" by W.H. Auden

Wednesday, June 5, 2019

Forgetfulness by Billy Collins

Billy Collins reads his poem.
I already don’t remember what it is called....

Tuesday, January 29, 2019

Senza Nobilita by Yanka




snob
1781, "a shoemaker, a shoemaker's apprentice," of unknown origin. It came to be used in Cambridge University slang c.1796 for "townsman, local merchant," and by 1831 it was being used for "person of the ordinary or lower classes." Meaning "person who vulgarly apes his social superiors" arose 1843, popularized 1848 by William Thackeray's "Book of Snobs." The meaning later broadened to include those who insist on their gentility, in addition to those who merely aspire to it, and by 1911 had its main modern sense of "one who despises those considered inferior in rank, attainment, or taste."
from Douglas Harper's Online Etymology Dictionary

Groucho Collage

one of these grouchy Groucho grouch days... Enjoy!

Monday, August 6, 2018

My Plate Portraits

Do play with your food! 












 When someone demanded that the wise Epicurus
tell him : what "the Good" they're
constantly looking for is;
he said it was pleasure
Well done, best and wisest!
There's no greater good than chewing;
the Good's an attribute of pleasure.