The Tyger

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

William Blake, 1794

The Cow

The cow is of the bovine ilk:
One end is moo, the other, milk.

Ogden Nash

To A Mouse

Small, sleek, cowering, timorous beast,
O, what a panic is in your breast!
You need not start away so hasty
With hurrying scamper!
I would be loath to run and chase you,
With murdering plough-staff.

I’m truly sorry man’s dominion
Has broken Nature’s social union,
And justifies that ill opinion
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth born companion
And fellow mortal!

I doubt not, sometimes, but you may steal;
What then? Poor beast, you must live!
An odd ear in twenty-four sheaves
Is a small request;
I will get a blessing with what is left,
And never miss it.

Your small house, too, in ruin!
It’s feeble walls the winds are scattering!
And nothing now, to build a new one,
Of coarse grass green!
And bleak December’s winds coming,
Both bitter and keen!

You saw the fields laid bare and wasted,
And weary winter coming fast,
And cozy here, beneath the blast,
You thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel plough past
Out through your cell.

That small bit heap of leaves and stubble,
Has cost you many a weary nibble!
Now you are turned out, for all your trouble,
Without house or holding,
To endure the winter’s sleety dribble,
And hoar-frost cold.

But Mouse, you are not alone,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes of mice and men
Go often askew,
And leaves us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy!

Still you are blest, compared with me!
The present only touches you:
But oh! I backward cast my eye,
On prospects dreary!
And forward, though I cannot see,
I guess and fear!

Robert Burns, 1785

Ando was inspired to develop the instant noodle after coming upon a long line of people on a cold night shortly after World War II waiting to buy freshly made ramen at a black market food stall, according to Nissin. The experience convinced him that “Peace will come to the world when the people have enough to eat,” it said.

Here’s an Algorithm march featuring ninjas:

I camped out on the foot bridge where Quentin Compson of William Faulkner’s Sound and the Fury had porportedly met his demise. All you college kids who have slogged through the wild jungle thickets of Modernism and literary criticism know what I’m talking about. Anyway, I took a bunch of photos, including this near catastrophic collision between the Peking University rowing team and some other crew.

I should qualify that the Beida (peking) team was not at fault. They were just rowing straight ahead, when the team in front cut across their path in a rather ungraceful move to out-flank everyone and use the river currents to their advantage. In my estimation, there seems to be a spot around Harvard where, near the banks of the river (right after the footbridge), the current is significantly weaker. The teams that are familiar with the river seem to take this route.

I had read a brief blurb in the Boston Globe the day before the races that the Beida team had had visa problems with their coxswain and had to come to the event a man short. They recruited a last-minute coxswain from MIT to compensate. Perhaps these unusal and unfamiliar settings had something to do with it, but unbeknownst to me then, the Beida team’s boat is later said to have sunk further up river. Check out this AP photo of the ensuing humanitarian catastrophe:

I feel bad for the Peking University team. They fly halfway around the world, only to be met with frustration and agony. It is the quintessential Boston experience. This place blows.

Bill Manville’s Saloon Society

1. Saturday Morning

2. The Young Marrieds

3. Lady Effingham’s Eggs

4. Summer Affair

5. Uptown

6. Jersey Adventure

7. Jim Palm

8. Lou the Ladie’s Man

9. Maggie Singleton

note: I have no idea what the current copyright status of this album is. I’ve put this up for your online listening pleasure, but please be advised that downloading and (in particular) distribution of this material may constitute a violation of any number of laws.

Addendum: Looking around on the web, I have discovered that Bill Manville has in more recent years written a self-help book on kicking substance abuse. The book entitled Cool, Hip & Sober, looks to be very much in print, so if you enjoyed the above recordings, and want to support Mr. Manville, you can buy a copy of his book. Also, should you youngsters find the wino life glamorous and decide to follow in Mr. Manville’s reckless footsteps, just be forwarned that you might also find yourself in and out of rehab for 20 long years.