Saturday, March 31, 2007

The Primacy of the Inner Life, per Virginia Woolf

For now she need not think about anybody. She could be herself, by herself. And that was what now she often felt the need of -- to think; well not even to think. To be silent; to be alone. All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others. Although she continued to knit, and sat upright, it was thus that she felt herself; and this self having shed its attachments was free for the strangest adventures. When life sank down for a moment, the range of experience seemed limitless. And to everybody there was always this sense of unlimited resources, she supposed; one after another, she, Lily, Augustus Carmichael, must feel, our apparitions, the things you know us by, are simply childish.
--To the Lighthouse, by Virginia Woolf, pp. 70-71

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Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Mourning: a Bracelet of Bright Hair about the Bone

As something too small to mourn; the very word "mourn" was archaic and superstitious, of the age of Browne, or Hervey; yet Donne was right, her death detracted, would for ever detract, from my life. Each death laid a dreadful charge of complicity on the living; each death was incongenerous, its guilt irreducible, its sadness immortal; a bracelet of bright hair about the bone.

I did not pray for her, because prayer has no efficacy; I did not cry for her, because only extroverts cry twice; I sat in the silence of that night, that infinite hostility to man, to permanence, to love, remembering her, remembering her.

--The Magus, by John Fowles (1965), pp. 382-383.

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Saturday, March 17, 2007

Honey, What's this Hanging in the Refrigerator?

From Craig Schuhmann's Oregon Fishing, p. 64:

Of all the stink-bait recipes for catfish I was privy to learn about, this one stands out as the king:

Find a locker plant that will let you have a set of beef lungs with the windpipe still connected. Hang the lungs up by windpipe, then pour fresh blood into the windpipe. When the lung is full, hang in a cooler until blood coagulates (leave in the cooler for 24 hours). After 24 hours, take the lung out of the cooler and slice it into cubes. (Because of its consistency, the lung absorbs the blood.) When you put the slices on the hook, the bait will stay on the hook, but the blood will still bleed out, re-liquefying in the water.

Well, sure, everybody knows that. But where do you get the "fresh blood" to pour in the lung?

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