Saturday, October 19, 2013

Saturday commute xci: Smith girl upheld by Tiger

I don't know which is
glossier, the Chief
Justice's summa from
SPIA or the cheekily
ungrammatical backspin
in his return of big-
otry's service.

The state [New Jersey]
has advanced a number
of arguments, but none
of them overcome this
reality: same-sex coup-
les who cannot marry
are not treated equal-
The harm to them is
real, not abstract or

I wonder how little
Sammy Alito feels to
find his alma mater

Chief Justice Stuart Rabner
The New York Times
October 19, 2013

Thursday, October 17, 2013

What are they doing today at Dartmouth, Pa?

5 February 1944
17 October 1969

B.A., 1966

    This is a boy who
    grew up hearing
    Nelson's semaphore
    from Trafalgar, 
    year after year of
    a brief life end-
    ing in the Navy;
    who found a place
    where duty follow-
    ed other expecta-
    tions, and taught
    himself and me a
    better language.

Monday, October 14, 2013

St Émilion and I

  I close for
  October and.

I don't like the sound of
accolades; they commit the
wrong frequencies and amp-
litudes for me and what I
like. I have always absent-
ed myself from stadia when
they're occupied, although
I love an honest contest.
The best things, of course,
are no contest.

Some time ago, when a war
I didn't like was announced
as coming to an end, I was
driving back to Palo Alto
from a trek to a couple of
favourite used-book stores
in Berkeley, and I detoured
off the Bay Bridge to take
a table at Ernie's, of which
you've heard, in Vertigo. I
knew they'd lend me a tie.

The foyer was awash in roses,
as it always was, and incom-
parably comfortable and in-
timate in welcome: a warmth
with no unnecessary word.

I had no doubt of what I'd
eat or what I'd drink. I may
return to the rest someday,
but what mattered was a wine
that had long, long come off
the vines at Château Ausone.

The cellar did not fail, and
that was Ernie's rôle in life,
now defunct of course. I may
revisit that institution here,
as this page may go on.

I am not going to spill ac-
colades on that rapport, and
I'm not going to solicit ex-
citement with vain remarks on
the imperishable. I hold to
too much respect for the au-
tonomy of the palate, and in-
deed of the admirable works
of nature, to treat my reader
to a harangue on discernment.

I believe the ultimate resort
of taste is peace. I know, it
can be crafted, because it is
natural. Such peace is not the
privilege of going unwarred
upon, nor does it roil the air
with triumphs, as much as it
responds to thirst. It can be
tasted, and the taste for it
is not rare. 

i, ii  James Gatenby
iii   St Émilion