When a child first catches adults out—when it first walks into his grave little head that adults do not have divine intelligence, that their judgments are not always wise, their thinking true, their sentences just—his world falls into panic desolation. The gods are fallen and all safety gone… And the child’s world is never quite whole again. It is an aching kind of growing.
39 comments:
I don't know about the prosey but the art caught my eye. The canvas is a famous one and probably hangs in the Louver. When I was a boy, my mom had a coffee table book called "Masturpieces of Painting" or somesuch and that painting was in it. It remember it was the first place I glimpse the milky white vessels of succor outside of National Jigglegraphic Magazine (which didn't count because they weren't milky white).
Ruebens?
Don't know who that is, but I met his son back in '68. He has the number IV after his name. So much time has passed that even he has passed. All this happened in the east somewhere. All I remember were cans, mice, grapes and the usual amount of wrath that goes with all those things. Or was it Roth? It's been a long time, who knows...
Chickie, I bet you were like the little boy in the1999 film, My Life So Far, setting is an estate in 1920's Scotland. It's based on a true story about Denis Foreman, former director of the Royal Opera House. His character, Fraser had a penchant for the titillating books left laying around and hidden by his family.
What lay east of Eden?
Theodor Geisel?
Meeting went terrific today.
I received "buy in" from all key opinion leaders. We are ready to pull the trigger for 8 new senior level executive biotech business development staff focusing on biologics/orphan drugs. Elite MBA's only (preferably Sloan, Wharton or Tuck), thanks. Salary mid 100's, with bonus, and options natch. Local candidates only, don't want to deal with relo and someone who lives in a shit state and does not understand the value of very expensive housing stock. Sorry Nebraska. Have to have 5 plus years of immunology expertise. Large tits would be a plus. Hot hogs desirable. Impeccable taste in clothes required. Serious inquiries only.
I was nervous for a bit, but then I was like please, look at me, I am hot, articulate and they are putty in my hands.
Now let's go Pats.
And how are you? I care...not really.
tits.
Timshel!
chick - My thought was Rubens also. The figures are pure Rubens. But the landscape is something I've never seen in a Rubens, what with the mixture of realistic and fantasy or phantasmagoric creatures. On the other hand maybe Rubens just left the background - most of his backgrounds were painted by his "factory" - to an assistant who had had one too many that day.
I'm gonna agree with Sixty that it's Steinbeck. And the statement about disillusionment with ones parent points to East Of Eden. But that's pure guess on my part.
Timshel!!
Yes blake, Timshel, we got it. Now go feed the rabbits.
It IS a Rubens.
@Allie: Thanks. I'll "look into" that film.
Jan Brueghel, the elder and Rubens.
link
Allie, your link is broken. :(
Ruebens?
The original sin is set in a luscious landscape with numerous different animals and birds.
Jan Brueghel here collaborated with Peter Paul Rubens. Rubens painted Adam and Eve and probably also the horse; Brueghel did the landscape
chickenlittle's mention of the book set me looking, because it reminded me of the book of paintings that resided in our living room on a side table when I was growing up. I still have the book.
In looking at the enlargement, I started to wonder about the weird collection of animals gathered. This led to the discovery that Breughel was involved, which accounts for the overall oddity.
Ricpic's comment wasn't up yet when I started this one, but his observation and description hit the mark. It was fun to see someone else noticing the same thing.
Of course similar pictures are being painted today, as Titus Brueghelizes another view of paradise.
Thank you MamaM, ricpic and Allie! What a cultured and erudite group you are!
(that wasn't snark)
Resorcererful!
The fruits of their collaboration were even more popular than their solo works, and they could not meet the demand for their joint works. Many lesser artists copied these paintings.
Fruit of Collaboration!
Here, there, on back to the original story.
The giant ostrich over on the right is a eye catcher. Looks like a dinosaur lumbering in.
ricpic,
I will hug him and squeeze him and call him "George"!
During my very strategic meeting today I needed to fart really bad.
I had to squeeze my tight 15 year old pucker together multiple times really hard, trying not to exhale.
It was daunting.
Finally when I left I took a deep breath, exhaled, and laid a good 5 second dirty smelly fart in the hallway and then ran off like Madonna did in that video after she had rough sex.
I believe I bent my knees and held my hands up as I laid the fart as well.
Sorry about the broken link, but MamaM has filled in the gap:)
...my tight 15 year old pucker...
Wore out your original pucker 30 years ago, huh?
Finally when I left I took a deep breath, exhaled, and laid a good 5 second dirty smelly fart in the hallway and then ran off like Madonna did in that video after she had rough sex.
You should have lit it...sounds like self propulsion to me.
rockets
Wore out your original pucker 30 years ago, huh?
I believe the medical term for such reparations is called sphinctoplasty. It's getting more common--especially in Boston.
My pucker has never been punctured and my doc says I have the prostrate of a 15 year old thank you very much.
One of my proudest accomplishments.
tits
Men should do pucker exams just like women do titty exams.
Just pull the shorts down, put a mirror on the floor, squat all the way down to where your hole is almost touching the mirror, spread cheeks real wide, grab the flash light and start digging.
If you have a hairy ass it is best to have a razor near by to clip the grass so you can get a good hard look at the lining. Also, it's always good to keep your hole clipped as mucho hair produces klingers and dingleberries and who wants those? Sure they can be fun to pull free from the hair but really no one wants to run into a klinger around the hole. Don't always put yourself first. Thing about your "partner".
This is your assignment tonight fellow mens. And have fun with it. It doesn't need to be arduous. Perhaps a candle, some incense, dim lighting, enya playing and a glass of chablis can make the experience something you look forward to rather than dislike.
Now make it happen.
Remember a healthy pucker makes for a happy man.
tits
Personally, I think it is important for all men to have a relationship with their pucker.
Yes, it may be intimidating or you may feel "weird".
I recommend talking to it.
Say,"hi there little pucker, how are you today? I thank you for being in my life. You are important to me. Would you mind if I take a little peak down there to see what's going on"
Also, praise the pucker. Say things like "you are a very unique pucker, you mean a lot to me pucker, you are my friend".
Puckers..
Ew.
Titus wrote: I recommend talking to it.
I recommend you stop talking to it and about it.
At first glance that picture appeared to be Northern German, based on the animals and landscape. The figures reminded me of Cranach the Elder, but I mainly studied sculpture, so painting is not my strong suit. Had no idea those two guys collaborated.
And CL, leave poor Titus alone - some people only have assholes for friends.
File this under, small world.
Amused by Titus' misuse of prostrate, I did a little Google search to see if there was anything interesting out there, it must be a pretty common mistake and all...
"Titus said...
My pucker has never been punctured and my doc says I have the prostrate of a 15 year old thank you very much.
One of my proudest accomplishments.
tits"
The very first hit was this:
"The gland men have is called the prostate. “Prostrate” is an adjective meaning “lying face downward.” "
The author at the site is Professor Paul Brians. I took his class in science fiction literature as an elective when I was at Washington State University.
Titus, you must be drunk again - you keep repeating the same old lies - the least you could do is make up some new ones. You really have to work on getting your stories "straight".
All Puckered Out. A poem dedicated to Titus and Old Dogs Everywhere. Found by chance following the imbruegelio over 15 year old prostrates, checked puckers, and laid farts.
Grecian Temples
by George Bilgere
Because I'm getting pretty gray at the temples,
which negatively impacts my earning potential
and does not necessarily attract vibrant young women
with their perfumed bosoms to dally with me
on the green hillside,
I go out and buy some Grecian Hair Formula.
And after the whole process, which involves
rubber gloves, a tiny chemistry set,
and perfect timing, I look great.
I look very fresh and virile, full of earning potential.
But when I take my fifteen-year-old beagle
out for his evening walk, the contrast is unfortunate.
Next to me he doesn't look all that great,
with his graying snout, his sort of faded,
worn-out-dog look. It makes me feel old,
walking around with a dog like that.
It's not something a potential employer,
much less a vibrant young woman with a perfumed bosom
would necessarily go for. So I go out
and get some more Grecian Hair Formula—
Light Brown, my beagle's original color.
And after all the rigmarole he looks terrific.
I mean, he's not going to win any friskiness contests,
not at fifteen. But there's a definite visual improvement.
The two of us walk virilely around the block.
The next day a striking young woman at the bookstore
happens to ask me about my parents,
who are, in fact, long dead, due to the effects of age.
They were very old, which causes death.
But having dead old parents does not go
with my virile, intensely fresh new look.
So I say to the woman, my parents are fine.
They love their active lifestyle in San Diego.
You know, windsurfing, jai alai, a still-vibrant sex life.
And while this does not necessarily cause her
to come dally with me on the green hillside, I can tell
it doesn't hurt my chances.
I can see her imagining dinner
with my sparkly, young-seeming mom and dad
at some beachside restaurant
where we would announce our engagement.
Your son has great earning potential,
she'd say to dad, who would take
a gander at her perfumed bosom
and give me a wink, like he used to do
back when he was alive, and vibrant.
I'm going to print out Titus' advice to men and hang it in the locker room at the gym and see what conversations get started. I'll sign some doctor's name to it or something to make it look official.
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