Se Moi
You know that annoying song which Lancelot sings in the musical version of Camelot? Well, it is I, but I won't claim all of Lancelot's abilities, nor certainly his deeds.
I'm home, unpacking, buying fabric off of Ebay (summer sewing has descended, clothed--pun intended--with an awful and unsuspicioned power), and occupying a corner of my mind with the eternal question: what have I got, that is clean, to wear to the Singles Meeting tonight?
Stars wrote to me--huzzah!--and I finished a four-page handwritten letter for Kirsten. This is only fair, since she sent me a four-page handwritten letter in the first place. Handwritten correspondence is splendid! I can think of few thrills greater than the possession of an unopened letter, satisfyingly fat, and full, you know, of news. Like Jane Austen's Emma, I always like news.
Kirsten writes that she is trying to keep up with Latin for the incoming Latin III exam--dear Dr. Noe--but having little success. I told her, and I think I told her true, "negative perspiration" (no sweat). We'll have a Latin Jam Party just before the Wednesday exam. Remember those, Carolyn? Good times, dear times, times fondly remembered by me at this time!
I read On Beauty and Rules for the Dance (Mary Oliver) and started the Iliad for the second time--Pope's translation--while I was away. I am convinced that Elaine Scarry and Mary Oliver are still some of the most charming writers of my reading acquaintance.
In sum, it was a delicious retreat. But it has made me ache all over again for Latin.
Nathan gets his puppy tomorrow! All hail Samwise!
I'm home, unpacking, buying fabric off of Ebay (summer sewing has descended, clothed--pun intended--with an awful and unsuspicioned power), and occupying a corner of my mind with the eternal question: what have I got, that is clean, to wear to the Singles Meeting tonight?
Stars wrote to me--huzzah!--and I finished a four-page handwritten letter for Kirsten. This is only fair, since she sent me a four-page handwritten letter in the first place. Handwritten correspondence is splendid! I can think of few thrills greater than the possession of an unopened letter, satisfyingly fat, and full, you know, of news. Like Jane Austen's Emma, I always like news.
Kirsten writes that she is trying to keep up with Latin for the incoming Latin III exam--dear Dr. Noe--but having little success. I told her, and I think I told her true, "negative perspiration" (no sweat). We'll have a Latin Jam Party just before the Wednesday exam. Remember those, Carolyn? Good times, dear times, times fondly remembered by me at this time!
I read On Beauty and Rules for the Dance (Mary Oliver) and started the Iliad for the second time--Pope's translation--while I was away. I am convinced that Elaine Scarry and Mary Oliver are still some of the most charming writers of my reading acquaintance.
In sum, it was a delicious retreat. But it has made me ache all over again for Latin.
Nathan gets his puppy tomorrow! All hail Samwise!
posted by Praelucor at 3:09 PM
2 Comments:
Well, tell Kirsten she's not the only one falling behind in Latin. The few times I have looked at Latin I've just managed to scare myself with all I've forgotten...
I'll probably be there, too, tonight. Maybe I'll see you.
What was Rules of the Dance like? Will you do a little review? I have it, too, and am wondering if I should read it.
And... I am reading the Illiad (for the first time). Do you recommend your translation?
Jonathan, I'm pretty sure that Fitzgerald only translated the Odyssey. If he DID translate the Iliad, I agree with you wholeheartedly. Read Fitzgerald!
Rules for the Dance is delightful. Read the first page and see if you aren't captivated. It's about how breath is our first language. She also argues, mid-book, that even nonmetrical poetry uses meter. Good stuff!
Pope was a master of heroic verse, so yes, I do recommend my translation. :-)
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