The idea that the woman you love will ignore you and leave you pining appears to be universal, and the problem is that one may end up abasing and enslaving your honour and wealth to someone who cares not a whit for you. But you find beautiful. This is a trap: For Chaucer, who knew […]Read More → Without Dalliance
Overnight, I put an index site up, and the main site went down — I contacted the webhost, who noted I had an outdated version of PHP up, and when that was changed, all loaded well. Another night worrying. Sometimes I wonder why I do this, and why this morning I was grumpy because I […]Read More → Unashamed
James Joyce wasted his talent on experimental novels. He could write. This simple is hard. A Flower Given to My Daughter Frail the white rose and frail are Her hands that gave Whose soul is sere and paler Than time’s wan wave. Rosefrail and fair — yet frailest A wonder wild In gentle eyes thou […]Read More → Joyce short poem
This passage puzzles me less and less as our society degenerates. I used to wonder why Christ called his generation faithless and perverse: but I live in a faithless and perverse generation, and I note the tactic. The disciples could not fix it, and I have a right to be cured. I have a right. […]Read More → Ingratitude in this generation.
We are ending the end of this cycle, and with it the need to transliterate. Anne Locke’s poem or meditation worked when written well. It shows that the Puritans of that time did care and craft beauty, with words and in their lives. Unlike the women of this time, Locke did this while running a […]Read More → Sunday Sonnet
I’m looking at the attacks on the church from the elite. Twitter says a Lord has resigned from the Presbyterian Church in Ireland because of the issue of gay rights, and twitter is full of “you will know Christians by their love (with the word doctrine crossed out). In the USA, the church is trying […]Read More → They are still blinded.
I do not change the spelling or transliterate this. Last night I was reading John Skelton, who has a simple poem that is quite readable, despite being a hundred years earlier. Skelton is late medieval/early renaissance, and as such, is no prig. Despite being a priest he lusts, knowing that, he doubts is instinct. He […]Read More → Saturday Sonnet.
I am starting this with a bit of sarcasm that VD produced about a decade ago: You can trust biologists because physicists get amazingly accurate results . This has multiple levels: firstly biologists are not physicists, secondly accuracy is no validity, and thirdly, your models can be wrong. And at this point I better defer […]Read More → Your model of God is broken.
Firstly, there is nothing wrong with being a liturgical church. There are wonderful liturgies, that force one to consider your failure and lead you to Christ, week upon week. However, most of them are old. A good liturgy is a test liturgy. The worst thing is when people try to write a new liturgy, and […]Read More → The need for liturgical correction.
Matt Briggs, whom I quote, found this graph on reddit. The comments there note, correctly, that the fitted model is stupid. It does not fit reality. Since I spent much of he afternoon looking at a paper based on data mining first childbirth versus first abortion, The idea of models trumping reality was painfully apparent […]Read More → The model should not contradict the findings.