Bob Terwilliger wrote:

> Bob Terwilliger was obviously drunk when he posted:
>
> >> ----------------------
> >> Liber XV sec. VII.
> >> ----------------------
> >>
> >> The Anthem
> >> --------------
> <snip>
> >> Aleister Crowley
> >> Gnostic Mass.
> >> The Office of the Anthem.
> >> Liber ABA.
>
> I've always liked this better:

Would you care to compare and discuss it? Stanza for stanza?

You have made an obvious statement i have just not made up my mind yet
precisely what it is.

As an invitation to discuss the relative merits of the poetry quoted i
could get a bit enthusiastic about but other wise, no. I mangled the
"One Star In Sight" sadly i could not find my text.

And i have not yet even posted the Hymn to Pan
---
J (IO PAN IO PAN) L

> The Hollow Men
>
> I
>
> We are the hollow men
> We are the stuffed men
> Leaning together
> Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
> Our dried voices, when
> We whisper together
> Are quiet and meaningless
> As wind in dry grass
> Or rats' feet over broken glass
> In our dry cellar
>
> Shape without form, shade without colour,
> Paralysed force, gesture without motion;
>
> Those who have crossed
> With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
> Remember us -- if at all -- not as lost
> Violent souls, but only
> As the hollow men
> The stuffed men.
>
> II
>
> Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
> In death's dream kingdom
> These do not appear:
> There, the eyes are
> Sunlight on a broken column
> There, is a tree swinging
> And voices are
> In the wind's singing
> More distant and more solemn
> Than a fading star.
>
> Let me be no nearer
> In death's dream kingdom
> Let me also wear
> Such deliberate disguises
> Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves
> In a field
> Behaving as the wind behaves
> No nearer --
>
> Not that final meeting
> In the twilight kingdom
>
> III
>
> This is the dead land
> This is cactus land
> Here the stone images
> Are raised, here they receive
> The supplication of a dead man's hand
> Under the twinkle of a fading star.
>
> Is it like this
> In death's other kingdom
> Waking alone
> At the hour when we are
> Trembling with tenderness
> Lips that would kiss
> Form prayers to broken stone.
>
> IV
>
> The eyes are not here
> There are no eyes here
> In this valley of dying stars
> In this hollow valley
> This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
>
> In this last of meeting places
> We grope together
> And avoid speech
> Gathered on this beach of the tumid river
>
> Sightless, unless
> The eyes reappear
> As the perpetual star
> Multifoliate rose
> Of death's twilight kingdom
> The hope only
> Of empty men.
>
> V
>
> Here we go round the prickly pear
> Prickly pear prickly pear
> Here we go round the prickly pear
> At five o'clock in the morning.
>
> Between the idea
> And the reality
> Between the motion
> And the act
> Falls the Shadow
>
> For Thine is the Kingdom
>
> Between the conception
> And the creation
> Between the emotion
> And the response
> Falls the Shadow
>
> Life is very long
>
> Between the desire
> And the spasm
> Between the potency
> And the existence
> Between the essence
> And the descent
> Falls the Shadow
> For Thine is the Kingdom
>
> For Thine is
> Life is
> For Thine is the
>
> This is the way the world ends
> This is the way the world ends
> This is the way the world ends
> Not with a bang but a whimper.
>
> ---T. S. Eliot (1925)

Joseph wrote:

> Would you care to compare and discuss it? Stanza for stanza?

Not in this NG, thanks.


> And i have not yet even posted the Hymn to Pan
> ---
> J (IO PAN IO PAN) L


Heh...reminds me of "Iä! Iä! Yog-Sothoth!" (though "Hymn to Pan" is one of
my favorite songs by Rhea's Obsession.)


ObFood: Pan Bagnat

Make a vinaigrette: Combine red wine vinegar, tarragon, basil, and oregano
in a jar. Add olive oil, close jar, and shake well.

Cut a good-quality loaf of artisanal bread in half horizontally. Scoop out
the insides. Into the hollow thus created, drizzle some of the vinaigrette.
Slice some tomatoes and put them into the hollow. Sprinkle with salt and
pepper. Add some sliced marinated artichoke hearts and sliced mozzarella
cheese. Drizzle with more vinaigrette. Add some good-quality pitted olives
and chopped scallions. (You can add roasted peppers too.) Top with lettuce.
Drizzle the underside of the top of the loaf with the vinaigrette and then
put the top back onto the loaf. Press the loaf for at least half an hour
for the flavors to mingle. Slice and serve.

(Some people like to add anchovies or tuna, but I like the fish-free version
better.)

Bob

In article >,
"Bob Terwilliger" > wrote:
(snip)
>
> ObFood: Pan Bagnat
(snip)
> Bob

First time (and only, I think) I had pan bagnat in Phoenix about 25
years ago, I loved it. Never made it.

Indian Summer

In youth it was the way I had
To do my best to please
To change with every passing lad
To suit his theories

But now I know the things I do
And do the things I do
And if you do not like me so
To hell, my love, with you.

-Dorothy Parker
--
http://www.jamlady.eboard.com

Barb wrote:

> First time (and only, I think) I had pan bagnat in Phoenix about 25
> years ago, I loved it. Never made it.

It's my idea of perfect picnic food; it actually gets BETTER when it sits
for a while.


> Indian Summer
>
> In youth it was the way I had
> To do my best to please
> To change with every passing lad
> To suit his theories
>
> But now I know the things I do
> And do the things I do
> And if you do not like me so
> To hell, my love, with you.
>
> -Dorothy Parker


I’d rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
---e. e. cummings

Bob

"Bob Terwilliger" > wrote in message
...
> Barb wrote:
>
>> First time (and only, I think) I had pan bagnat in Phoenix about 25
>> years ago, I loved it. Never made it.
>
> It's my idea of perfect picnic food; it actually gets BETTER when it sits
> for a while.
>
>
>> Indian Summer
>>
>> In youth it was the way I had
>> To do my best to please
>> To change with every passing lad
>> To suit his theories
>>
>> But now I know the things I do
>> And do the things I do
>> And if you do not like me so
>> To hell, my love, with you.
>>
>> -Dorothy Parker
>
>
> I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
> than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
> ---e. e. cummings
>
> Bob
>
I thought this was
> I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
> than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
> ---fossi....

Bob Terwilliger wrote:
> Barb wrote:
>
>
>>First time (and only, I think) I had pan bagnat in Phoenix about 25
>>years ago, I loved it. Never made it.
>
>
> It's my idea of perfect picnic food; it actually gets BETTER when it sits
> for a while.
>
>
>
>>Indian Summer
>>
>>In youth it was the way I had
>>To do my best to please
>>To change with every passing lad
>>To suit his theories
>>
>>But now I know the things I do
>>And do the things I do
>>And if you do not like me so
>>To hell, my love, with you.
>>
>>-Dorothy Parker
>
>
>
> I’d rather learn from one bird how to sing
> than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
> ---e. e. cummings
>
> Bob
>
>
Something is happening here but you don't know what it is, do you mr
Jones.

r. zimmerman

--
Del Cecchi
"This post is my own and doesn’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions,
strategies or opinions.”

Barb contributed this gem to the current poetry thread:

> Indian Summer
>
> In youth it was the way I had
> To do my best to please
> To change with every passing lad
> To suit his theories
>
> But now I know the things I do
> And do the things I do
> And if you do not like me so
> To hell, my love, with you.
>
> -Dorothy Parker

Barb wins!

Felice

"Felice Friese" > wrote in message
...
>
> Barb contributed this gem to the current poetry thread:
>
>> Indian Summer
>>
>> In youth it was the way I had
>> To do my best to please
>> To change with every passing lad
>> To suit his theories
>>
>> But now I know the things I do
>> And do the things I do
>> And if you do not like me so
>> To hell, my love, with you.
>>
>> -Dorothy Parker
>
I sent this poem to DH this a.m. and watched him LOL when he read it. He
knows first-hand of what she speaks.
Thanks again for this poem. It lightened the load.
Dee Dee

Melba's Jammin' wrote:

> In article >,
> "Bob Terwilliger" > wrote:
> (snip)
> >
> > ObFood: Pan Bagnat
> (snip)
> > Bob
> To hell, my love, with you.
>
> -Dorothy Parker
> --

Tsk..that ol' Algonquin (algorithm?) round table is a thing i routinely
forget, along with 'further father' or 'father further'?
---
Littleshoes

"Joseph Littleshoes" > wrote in message
...
> Melba's Jammin' wrote:
>
>> In article >,
>> "Bob Terwilliger" > wrote:
>> (snip)
>> >
>> > ObFood: Pan Bagnat
>> (snip)
>> > Bob
>> To hell, my love, with you.
>>
>> -Dorothy Parker
>> --
>
> Tsk..that ol' Algonquin (algorithm?) round table is a thing i routinely
> forget, along with 'further father' or 'father further'?
> ---
> Littleshoes
>
And pray tell, what is
'further father' or 'father further'?
I need a laff,
Dee Dee

Dee Randall wrote:

> "Joseph Littleshoes" > wrote in message
> ...
> > Melba's Jammin' wrote:
> >
> >> In article >,
> >> "Bob Terwilliger" > wrote:
> >> (snip)
> >> >
> >> > ObFood: Pan Bagnat
> >> (snip)
> >> > Bob
> >> To hell, my love, with you.
> >>
> >> -Dorothy Parker
> >> --
> >
> > Tsk..that ol' Algonquin (algorithm?) round table is a thing i
> routinely
> > forget, along with 'further father' or 'father further'?
> > ---
> > Littleshoes
> >
> And pray tell, what is
> 'further father' or 'father further'?
> I need a laff,
> Dee Dee

Marx brothers movie, Grocho is lecturing his son about bad grades at
school and when finished son says 'will there be anything further,
father?" and Groucho replies "shouldnt that be farther further?"
---
JL

In article >,
Joseph Littleshoes > wrote:
> Tsk..that ol' Algonquin (algorithm?) round table is a thing i routinely
> forget, along with 'further father' or 'father further'?
> ---
> Littleshoes

LOL!
--
http://www.jamlady.eboard.com

Pardon me boys, is this the lair of Great Cthulu?

On Mon, 17 Oct 2005 09:57:12 GMT, Joseph Littleshoes
> connected the dots and wrote:

~Bob Terwilliger wrote:
~
~> Bob Terwilliger was obviously drunk when he posted:
~>
~> >> ----------------------
~> >> Liber XV sec. VII.
~> >> ----------------------
~> >>
~> >> The Anthem
~> >> --------------
~> <snip>
~> >> Aleister Crowley
~> >> Gnostic Mass.
~> >> The Office of the Anthem.
~> >> Liber ABA.
~>
~> I've always liked this better:
~
~Would you care to compare and discuss it? Stanza for stanza?
~
~You have made an obvious statement i have just not made up my mind
yet
~precisely what it is.
~
~As an invitation to discuss the relative merits of the poetry quoted
i
~could get a bit enthusiastic about but other wise, no. I mangled
the
~"One Star In Sight" sadly i could not find my text.
~
~And i have not yet even posted the Hymn to Pan
~---
~J (IO PAN IO PAN) L
~
~> The Hollow Men
~>
~> I
~>
~> We are the hollow men
~> We are the stuffed men
~> Leaning together
~> Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
~> Our dried voices, when
~> We whisper together
~> Are quiet and meaningless
~> As wind in dry grass
~> Or rats' feet over broken glass
~> In our dry cellar
~>
~> Shape without form, shade without colour,
~> Paralysed force, gesture without motion;
~>
~> Those who have crossed
~> With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
~> Remember us -- if at all -- not as lost
~> Violent souls, but only
~> As the hollow men
~> The stuffed men.
~>
~> II
~>
~> Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
~> In death's dream kingdom
~> These do not appear:
~> There, the eyes are
~> Sunlight on a broken column
~> There, is a tree swinging
~> And voices are
~> In the wind's singing
~> More distant and more solemn
~> Than a fading star.
~>
~> Let me be no nearer
~> In death's dream kingdom
~> Let me also wear
~> Such deliberate disguises
~> Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves
~> In a field
~> Behaving as the wind behaves
~> No nearer --
~>
~> Not that final meeting
~> In the twilight kingdom
~>
~> III
~>
~> This is the dead land
~> This is cactus land
~> Here the stone images
~> Are raised, here they receive
~> The supplication of a dead man's hand
~> Under the twinkle of a fading star.
~>
~> Is it like this
~> In death's other kingdom
~> Waking alone
~> At the hour when we are
~> Trembling with tenderness
~> Lips that would kiss
~> Form prayers to broken stone.
~>
~> IV
~>
~> The eyes are not here
~> There are no eyes here
~> In this valley of dying stars
~> In this hollow valley
~> This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
~>
~> In this last of meeting places
~> We grope together
~> And avoid speech
~> Gathered on this beach of the tumid river
~>
~> Sightless, unless
~> The eyes reappear
~> As the perpetual star
~> Multifoliate rose
~> Of death's twilight kingdom
~> The hope only
~> Of empty men.
~>
~> V
~>
~> Here we go round the prickly pear
~> Prickly pear prickly pear
~> Here we go round the prickly pear
~> At five o'clock in the morning.
~>
~> Between the idea
~> And the reality
~> Between the motion
~> And the act
~> Falls the Shadow
~>
~> For Thine is the Kingdom
~>
~> Between the conception
~> And the creation
~> Between the emotion
~> And the response
~> Falls the Shadow
~>
~> Life is very long
~>
~> Between the desire
~> And the spasm
~> Between the potency
~> And the existence
~> Between the essence
~> And the descent
~> Falls the Shadow
~> For Thine is the Kingdom
~>
~> For Thine is
~> Life is
~> For Thine is the
~>
~> This is the way the world ends
~> This is the way the world ends
~> This is the way the world ends
~> Not with a bang but a whimper.
~>
~> ---T. S. Eliot (1925)
~
~

Maxine wrote:

> Pardon me boys, is this the lair of Great Cthulu?

I think you meant to quote a different message, where I wrote:

| Heh...reminds me of "Iä! Iä! Yog-Sothoth!"


Bob