On Commitment

I would say you have to commit to whatever you do, from mowing to centering clay to swimming to shore or rowing to the end of the lake; people know this.  Committing to do your best – not the best, but your present best – is, in my experience, also the most expedient way of … More On Commitment

Intrapsychic

I have shorted out a motherboard and I am sad. One must be practical but I feel very sorry for my computer, which I had had only a short time and which I really love. I let it be hurt and I feel terrible. I want to say, though, that the lines of the liberation … More Intrapsychic

Comme Undine

I really feel like sending a memo to my department chair but (a) this is Saturday, (b) it has not been solicited, and (c) everyone else has apparently written related memos this week and I doubt one more, no matter how good, true, or beautiful, would be helpful. So I will publish the main points … More Comme Undine

Fall

♦ It is only the middle of September but the heat broke with Tropical Storm Lee and never fully returned. I am giving two midterms tomorrow. LSU was leading Mississippi State 6-3 at halftime, and it must be fall. ♦ Here is a good and interesting course on film, or history through film, given at … More Fall

Patria libre o morir

As the assiduous reader knows, a central subtext of this weblog is Augusto César Sandino‘s “No me rendiré y aquí los espero,” from his response to USMC Captain Gilbert Hatfield’s request for a surrender. “I will not surrender and I await you here.” And the lines of my liberation front shall not be moved. My … More Patria libre o morir

On Golden Boys

All my Portuguese students this semester are women. I threw the men out in the spring by giving them Bs. They were good but not serious. I am dealing with two Golden Boys right now — you know the type, they were designated Golden Boys at birth. They have had advantages and that is why … More On Golden Boys

Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking XII

The aria sinking, All else continuing, the stars shining, The winds blowing, the notes of the bird continuous echoing, With angry moans the fierce old mother incessantly moaning, On the sands of Paumanok’s shore gray and rustling, The yellow half-moon enlarged, sagging down, drooping, the face of the sea almost touching, The boy ecstatic, with … More Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking XII