Fits and starts
Mar. 30th, 2004 11:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pecuniumYep, I get into moods, and so you see great wodges of my thoughts, and then great lacunae, wherein one might suppose I am doing great things, which keep me from spending time in this part of the world.
I'd like to think that's it. That spending last week in San Luis Obispo, cooking, and cleaning, and riding horses through the mountains, and down to the water's edge, for pounding runs across the edge of the surf, as the tide shifts from ebb to rise, taking pictures of grape leaves opening, shifting from pink on white/green fuzz to the glossy-yellow green (think green Chartreuse, made solid and glossy) constitutes great things.
But then I come to the world of discussions, of disputes and happy argument, of fortuitous discoveries, and dismay.
Because, much as I wish I thought such things as those above were worth writing about, they seem to fall into my private life, and my shocks, trivial amusements, angers and dismays are what I share here.
And I am dismayed.
For years there have been encroachments on the memories of my youth, the, "corrections," to Huck Finn, the Adjustments to Shakespeare (ending The Merchant Of Venice with the judgement of Shylock, not the happy resolution which comes after).
But this http://www.salon.com/books/feature/2004/03/29/willows/index.html is hideous. Off the top of mu head I'd have said there was nothing to abridge from, "The Wind in the Willows" (one of my best loved books, which I've used to pleasure myself, read to a girlfriend on the phone, given to my sisters, named homes after, learnt to row a boat because of, how to pack a picnic out of, and came to the study of animals from).
On perusal I can see where the thoughtlessly religious might object to the chapter, "The Piper at the Gates of Dawn" but other than that (and one could even interpret that as a Jesus metaphor, if one had to treat the book as an allegory) but it is as close to perfect as a book can be.
Alas, there is nothing in this world which someone cannot persuade another needs to be, "improved," and so this too.
So, all I can say is, go out and find this book, in a nice cloth edition. See that it has the Shepard illustrations, and has not been fiddled with. Then buy it.
Buy two copies, and share it with a friend, a sibling, a niece, nephew or parent.
Praise the good, and let this vile thing, this evil in the name of progress be starved out. Do lot let weeds choke out the wheat.
I'd like to think that's it. That spending last week in San Luis Obispo, cooking, and cleaning, and riding horses through the mountains, and down to the water's edge, for pounding runs across the edge of the surf, as the tide shifts from ebb to rise, taking pictures of grape leaves opening, shifting from pink on white/green fuzz to the glossy-yellow green (think green Chartreuse, made solid and glossy) constitutes great things.
But then I come to the world of discussions, of disputes and happy argument, of fortuitous discoveries, and dismay.
Because, much as I wish I thought such things as those above were worth writing about, they seem to fall into my private life, and my shocks, trivial amusements, angers and dismays are what I share here.
And I am dismayed.
For years there have been encroachments on the memories of my youth, the, "corrections," to Huck Finn, the Adjustments to Shakespeare (ending The Merchant Of Venice with the judgement of Shylock, not the happy resolution which comes after).
But this http://www.salon.com/books/feature/2004/03/29/willows/index.html is hideous. Off the top of mu head I'd have said there was nothing to abridge from, "The Wind in the Willows" (one of my best loved books, which I've used to pleasure myself, read to a girlfriend on the phone, given to my sisters, named homes after, learnt to row a boat because of, how to pack a picnic out of, and came to the study of animals from).
On perusal I can see where the thoughtlessly religious might object to the chapter, "The Piper at the Gates of Dawn" but other than that (and one could even interpret that as a Jesus metaphor, if one had to treat the book as an allegory) but it is as close to perfect as a book can be.
Alas, there is nothing in this world which someone cannot persuade another needs to be, "improved," and so this too.
So, all I can say is, go out and find this book, in a nice cloth edition. See that it has the Shepard illustrations, and has not been fiddled with. Then buy it.
Buy two copies, and share it with a friend, a sibling, a niece, nephew or parent.
Praise the good, and let this vile thing, this evil in the name of progress be starved out. Do lot let weeds choke out the wheat.
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childhood
Date: 2004-03-30 10:42 pm (UTC)