Recent blog entries for xerox

24 Jan 2020 »
https://www.musictheory.net/products/tenuto - $4 okay..
23 Jan 2020 »
http://nunia.maclab.org/2020/collage.UnionLeague.2020.png - need to TRIM this & http://v2dev.p2b.tv/images/gogirl.png for lower resolution... and faster loading...
23 Jan 2020 »
==> luarocks
LuaRocks supports multiple versions of Lua. By default it is configured
to use Lua5.3, but you can require it to use another version at runtime
with the `--lua-dir` flag, like this:

luarocks --lua-dir=/usr/local/opt/lua@5.1 install say


TRYING to install weechat , which draggedi n Perl v5? !

20 Jan 2020 »
https://downloads.isc.org/isc/bind9/9.14.9/doc/arm/Bv9ARM.pdf -downloaded and reading... 4 the day
13 Jan 2020 »
https://yobit.net/?bonus=iTHqk -> YoBit.NET Rus/CN/US trading site... link with me? ciao!
13 Jan 2020 »
2607:fb90:6027:a191:4c6b:fde5:5481:5247

NVIDIA GeForce 9400 256 MB YM10707MDMV

T-Mobile-LTE
13 Jan 2020 »
https://www.alignable.com/haverford-pa/directory/recent

wait 30 days and try to connect again! cheers...
10 Jan 2020 »
Statement by T. S. Eliot on the opening of the Emily Hale letters at Princeton
DIRECTIONS TO MY EXECUTORS

regarding the envelope enclosed herewith.

Miss Emily Hale, of Massachusetts, has presented to the Library of Princeton University the letters which I wrote to her between 1932 and 1947 – possibly a few of them a little earlier; any written after the death of my first wife are so different in sentiment that she may not have included them. It has come to my ears that she has added, or is preparing to add, some sort of commentary of her own. It therefore seems to me necessary to place on record my own picture of the background of this correspondence, and my present attitude towards it.

I wish the statement by myself to be made public as soon as the letters to Miss Hale are made public. (I make clear a little further on what I mean by the term “make public”). This ought not to be until fifty years after my death. But a good deal of publicity is possible without publication (in print); and I feel no assurance that complete privacy will be preserved up to that date; and if the letters themselves, or any of them, or any excerpts or quotations from any of them, or Miss Hale’s “commentary”, are disclosed before that time, or if it transpires that any individual or individuals has or have been given access to any of the letters before that date, then I wish the enclosed statement to be made public at the same time.

In case the Princeton Library preserves my letters unopened (as it ought to do) until fifty years after my death, when my Executors will be dead also, I suggest that the sealed envelope enclosed herewith should be given by my wife to the Librarian in charge of the “Eliot Collection” of my work and of other matter to do with me at Harvard University. (This collection is at present housed in the Houghton Library of Harvard University). It should be given to him with strict injunctions that it should be opened and made public fifty years after my death, or when the collection of letters to Miss Hale at Princeton University is made public before that date. If the latter collection is made public in any of the ways indicated above, then the enclosed letter should be made public in the same way. If it came to the knowledge of the Harvard authority or authorities in charge of the “Eliot Collection” and of this sealed envelope, that any person or persons had had access to the letters in the Princeton Library, whether with a view to making use of them in any piece of written work or not, or to any of those letters or any part of any letter, I should wish this sealed envelope to be opened and its contents made public also.

25 November 1960

T. S. Eliot











It is painful for me to have to write the following lines. I cannot conceive of writing my autobiography. It seems to me that those who can do so are those who have led purely public and exterior lives, or those who can successfully conceal from themselves what they prefer not to know about themselves – there may be a few persons who can write about themselves because they are truly blameless and innocent. In my experience, there is much for which one cannot find words even in the confessional; much which springs from weakness, irresolution and timidity, from petty self-centredness rather than from inclination towards evil or cruelty, from error rather than ill-nature. I shall be as brief as I can.

During the course of my correspondence with Emily Hale, between 1932 and 1947, I liked to think that my letters to her would be preserved and made public after we were dead – fifty years after. I was however, disagreeably surprised when she informed me that she was handing the letters over to Princeton University during our lifetime – actually in the year 1956. She took this step, it is true, before she knew that I was going to get married. Nevertheless, it seemed to me that her disposing of the letters in that way at that time threw some light upon the kind of interest which she took, or had come to take, in these letters. The Aspern Papers in reverse.

I fell in love with Emily Hale in 1912, when I was in the Harvard Graduate School. Before I left for Germany and England in 1914 I told her that I was in love with her. I have no reason to believe, from the way in which this declaration was received, that my feelings were returned, in any degree whatever. We exchanged a few letters, on a purely friendly basis, while I was up at Oxford during 1914-15.

To explain my sudden marriage to Vivienne Haigh-Wood would require a good many words, and yet the explanation would probably remain unintelligible. I was still, as I came to believe a year later, in love with Miss Hale. I cannot however make even that assertion with any confidence: it may have been merely my reaction against my misery with Vivienne and desire to revert to an earlier situation. I was very immature for my age, very timid, very inexperienced. And I had a gnawing doubt, which I could not altogether conceal from myself, about my choice of a profession – that of a university teacher of philosophy. I had had three years in the Harvard Graduate School, at my father’s expense, preparing to take my Doctorate in Philosophy: after which I should have found a post somewhere in a college or university. Yet my heart was not in this study, nor had I any confidence in my ability to distinguish myself in this profession. I must still have yearned to write poetry. For three years I had written only one fragment, which was bad (it is, alas, preserved at Harvard). Then in 1914 Conrad Aiken showed Prufrock to Ezra Pound. My meeting with Pound changed my life. He was enthusiastic about my poems, and gave me such praise and encouragement as I had long since ceased to hope for. I was happier in England, even in wartime, than I had been in America: Pound urged me to stay in England and encouraged me to write verse again. I think that all I wanted of Vivienne was a flirtation or a mild affair: I was too shy and unpractised to achieve either with anybody. I believe that I came to persuade myself that I was in love with her simply because I wanted to burn my boats and commit myself to staying in England. And she persuaded herself (also under the influence of Pound) that she would save the poet by keeping him in England. To her, the marriage brought no happiness: the last seven years of her life were spent in a mental home. To me, it brought the state of mind out of which came The Waste Land. And it saved me from marrying Emily Hale.

Emily Hale would have killed the poet in me; Vivienne nearly was the death of me, but she kept the poet alive. In retrospect, the nightmare agony of my seventeen years with Vivienne seems to me preferable to the dull misery of the mediocre teacher of philosophy which would have been the alternative.

For years I was a divided man (just as, in a different way, I had been a divided man in the years 1911-1915). In 1932 I was appointed Charles Eliot Norton Professor of Poetry at Harvard for one year; and even Vivienne’s mother agreed that it was out of the question for Vivienne to go to America with me. I saw Emily Hale in California (where she was teaching in a girls’ college) early in 1933, and I saw her from time to time every summer, I think from 1934 on, as she always joined her aunt and uncle who took a house every summer at Chipping Campden.

Upon the death of Vivienne in the winter of 1947, I suddenly realised that I was not in love with Emily Hale. Gradually I came to see that I had been in love only with a memory, with the memory of the experience of having been in love with her in my youth. Had I met any woman I could have fallen in love with, during the years when Vivienne and I were together, this would no doubt have become evident to me. From 1947 on, I realised more and more how little Emily Hale and I had in common. I had already observed that she was not a lover of poetry, certainly that she was not much interested in my poetry; I had already been worried by what seemed to me evidence of insensitiveness and bad taste. It may be too harsh, to think that what she liked was my reputation rather than my work. She may have loved me according to her capacity for love; yet I think that her uncle’s opinions (her uncle by marriage, a dear old man, but wooly-minded) meant more to her than mine. (She was fond of her uncle John but did not get on very well with her Aunt Edith). I could never make her understand that it was improper for her, a Unitarian, to communicate in an Anglican church: the fact that it shocked me that she should do so made no impression upon her. I cannot help thinking that if she had truly loved me she would have respected my feelings if not my theology. She adopted a similar attitude with regard to the Christian and Catholic view of divorce.

I might mention at this point that I never at any time had any sexual relations with Emily Hale.

So long as Vivienne was alive I was able to deceive myself. To face the truth fully, about my feelings towards Emily Hale, after Vivienne’s death, was a shock from which I recovered only slowly. But I came to see that my love for Emily was the love of a ghost for a ghost, and that the letters I had been writing to her were the letters of an hallucinated man, a man vainly trying to pretend to himself that he was the same man that he had been in 1914.

It would have been a still greater mistake to have married Emily than it was to marry Vivienne Haigh-Wood. I can imagine the sort of man each should have married – different from each other, but also very different from me. It is only within the last few years that I have known what it was to love a woman who truly, selflessly and whole-heartedly loves me. I find it hard to believe that the equal of Valerie ever has been or will be again; I cannot believe that there has ever been a woman with whom I could have felt so completely at one as with Valerie. The world with my beloved wife Valerie has been a good world such as I have never known before. At the age of 68 the world was transformed for me, and I was transformed by Valerie.

May we all rest in peace

T. S. Eliot



This was written on the 25th November 1960, but the last page has been slightly altered, and re-typed, on the 30th September 1963.

The letters to me from Emily Hale have been destroyed by a colleague at my request.

T. S. Eliot



The original letter and statement, held in the Houghton Library at Harvard, can be seen here.

source:
https://tseliot.com/foundation/statement-by-t-s-eliot-on-the-opening-of-the-emily-hale-letters-at-princeton/
31 Dec 2019 »
E星之卡比LQD
推荐于2017-12-15

  1993年10月8日,诗人顾城杀妻后自杀、留下5岁儿子桑木耳的爆炸性新闻轰动一时。13年来,顾城遗孤桑木耳的情况时刻牵动着国人的心,但其家人却始终对桑木耳的成长守口如瓶。昨日,顾城父亲、著名诗人顾工打破13年的沉默,首次向本报记者讲述了孙子桑木耳在异国他乡的故事。
  跟着姑姑海外小岛长大
  昨日下午,顾城父亲、著名诗人顾工在北京家中接受了本报记者的专访,虽然年事已高,顾工老人的思维和语言却十分清晰。顾工告诉记者,顾城之子全名为SAMUEL·顾,中文翻译为桑木耳。1993年,顾城杀妻自杀的人间悲剧发生时,5岁的小木耳并不在现场。“13年过去了,现在木耳已经是个18岁的帅小伙子了。”多年来,桑木耳在新西兰的生活一直是个谜。顾工先生告诉记者,桑木耳一直在新西兰的一所小岛上成长,陪伴在他身边的是顾城的姐姐顾乡以及顾乡的儿子弥乐。“木耳上学都是在岛外,顾乡每天会送木耳坐渡船去岛外上学,晚上又会接木耳回岛上。”木耳跟顾乡的儿子弥乐十分亲密,两人经常彻夜长谈,“这是木耳能在异国他乡唯一感受到的血缘亲情了。”
  诗人之子是工科大学生
  提到自己的孙子,顾工难以掩饰自己的骄傲之情。“木耳现在身体、情绪都很好,让我们也很放心。”顾工还高兴地告诉记者,桑木耳现在已经是新西兰奥克兰大学的一名大学生了,虽然爷爷和父母都是著名的中国诗人,但是桑木耳大学学习的专业却是工程,“木耳考大学的成绩很好,他现在学的还是一些工程方面的基础知识,要等到两年后,才决定具体学习哪一个具体领域的工程知识”。顾城夫妇去世后,朋友们捐款为桑木耳成立了“木耳基金会”,顾工透露,这个基金会在木耳上大学后发挥了巨大作用,“木耳现在读大学的费用都是从这个基金会里获得”。
  不懂中文未读父母诗歌
  由于常年在新西兰小岛上生活,桑木耳的中文听说能力都十分差,他甚至没有看过父亲顾城母亲谢烨写的诗歌,因为他的中文能力还达不到阅读诗歌的程度。当记者询问木耳是否对诗歌有着天生的热爱时,顾工遗憾地表示,木耳接触的诗歌不多,他对自然科学的兴趣多过人文科学。顾工称,他经常跟顾乡通电话,有时桑木耳在旁边也会来接听,但是由于中文听说能力差,爷孙两人几乎无法交流,“每次跟我通电话,木耳只知道一个劲在电话里说THANKYOU”。现在,家人正在试图提高木耳的中文能力,“小哥哥弥乐经常有意识地教木耳学习一些汉字,也经常和他说中文,现在木耳的中文能力有了很大的进步”。
  10岁首度回国看望爷爷
  让人难以想象的是,作为爷爷,顾工与孙子木耳至今只见过一次面。那是1998年,桑木耳10岁的时候,他在新西兰小岛上的两位英国邻居要到中国旅游,桑木耳就跟着两位邻居首次回到了自己的故乡中国。提起这次和木耳的见面,顾工如数家珍。他充满温情地向记者回忆了见面的许多细节:“虽然是第一次见面,木耳对我和他奶奶都很友好、很礼貌,我和他奶奶拉着木耳的手,一起去逛了一次北海,又手拉着手登上了白塔。我们还在家里给他做了顿地道的中国饭,还包了饺子,这应该是我们木耳第一次吃饺子吧。”虽然事隔多年,顾工依然不住地念叨:“他真是一个漂亮的小孩子啊……”顾工现在在家中依然珍藏着当年和孙子木耳的合影,但是由于语言不通,顾工却无法知晓孙子心中真正的喜怒哀乐。当记者询问木耳是一个什么样性格的孩子时,顾工伤感地说:“我和他语言不通,再加上只见过一次面,我真不知道自己的孙子是个什么样性格的人。”和爷爷奶奶短暂相处后,木耳又跟着那两个英国邻居到中国的其他省份看了看,“这一趟,让木耳真实地看到了自己故乡的样子”。
  至今不知父母离世真相
  顾城杀妻后自杀的悲剧是顾工一家永远的痛苦,当记者询问木耳是否知道自己的父母是怎么去世的时,顾工很谨慎地表示:“我们都没有跟木耳说过当年究竟发生过什么样的事情,加上在新西兰知道他的人不多,因此他未必知道当年发生在自己父母身上的悲剧。”顾工表示,家人不会一直对木耳隐瞒当年的事情,但会在一个适当的、成熟的时候再告诉他。顾工还透露,木耳知道自己的父亲是个诗人,“即使他隐约知道一点当年的事情,但也不会很详细”。由于13年前的那场悲剧,让木耳母亲、女诗人谢烨的家人至今都没有和顾工一家有任何来往。对于木耳,谢烨的家人也一直没有联系过。当记者询问其中的原因时,顾工很沉痛地表示:“虽然时间过了那么久,但是悲剧毕竟发生了,两家人心里始终还存在着疏离。”采访中顾工还表示,木耳终究是会回到中国的,家人会在成熟的条件下,在木耳本人愿意的情况下,安排这个漂泊在外的孩子回国回家。
  1999年9月16日,北京市第一中级人民法院开庭审理了顾木耳诉作家出版
  社出版《英儿》侵犯著作权一案。顾木耳系已故朦胧诗诗人顾城的未
  成年独子,现在新西兰居住。顾木耳的祖父母顾工、胡惠玲作为原告
  的委托代理人出庭。
  原告的起诉书中说:顾城、谢烨于1993年10月去世后,作家出版
  社即于同年11月出版了顾城、谢烨的作品《英儿》一书。原告认为作
  家出版社未经许可出版《英儿》一书,严重侵犯了作为该书作者继承
  人的原告的权利。要求法院判令作家出版社停止印刷、出版、发行
  《英儿》一书,公开赔礼道歉并赔偿经济损失45万元及相应利息。
  被告作家出版社委托代理人不同意原告方的诉讼请求。其理由是:
  一、《英儿》一书是顾城和谢烨的合作作品,两者去世后,继承人对
  遗产并没有分割。顾木耳没有权利亦无证据证明自己对《英儿》一书
  独自享有继承权。二、原告的诉讼请求已为法院的生效判决所驳回。
  三、被告人的发行行为基于明确的合同关系,作家出版社出版发行
  《英儿》一书是因买受《英儿》一书出版发行权权利人的赠予,是有
  合法依据的,不侵犯原告人的权利。
  在法庭辩论中,原告委托代理人认为:深圳市中级人民法院判决
  是竞卖文稿超越权限问题,那时《英儿》一书尚未出版,与此案无关。
  作家出版社不管通过什么途径取得《英儿》一书的文稿,未经著作人
  允许出版就是严重的侵权行为。并列举顾城诗集中顾城给亲人的四封
  遗书证明顾木耳是顾城、谢烨遗产合法继承人。被告委托代理人则坚
  持此案是一案两诉、诉讼时效已过。此案正在审理中。
  木耳在英语国家成长,走出家门的环境和所受的教育全是英语, 所以如果不特意教育他中文,他必定会以英语为第一语言,甚至可以一个汉字也不识,开口说不出三句中文。 汉语的教育,大概只能从他的看护人姑姑故乡一家人那里受点影响。如果有意回避他受汉语的影响,大概也有好处。鉴于他父母的悲剧, 大概有意让他学习理工科,远离文学诗歌也是有好处的。 如果他汉语很好, 那么在他长大成熟之前,就很容易知道他父母当年的真相,即使在再偏僻的海外。这不是好事。
  他的爷爷说,以后会根据他自己的意愿,可能的话让他会中国生活。
  可惜他的外公外婆一家, 因为怨恨罢? 连这个外孙都狠心再也没见面了。相信心里对外孙绝对是牵挂和疼心的,女儿身上的肉啊。是因爱之切痛之切矣!
参考资料:

http://tieba.baidu.com/f?kw=%B9%CB%B3%C7
6 Dec 2019 »
COPY-over from FB's Heidegger group... imagine _that_? good stuff tho...

Looked for the text in English but not able to find which book in English it is in. I did find this - P. Christopher Smith HEIDEGGER'S MISINTERPRETATION OF RILKE. A brief abstract below. Certainly one of Heidegger's most important accomplishments is to have reminded us of the original unity of poetry and philosophy. The "metaphysical" philosophy which Heidegger calls into question is characterized by its sharp separation of itself from what it calls "unscientific" modes of discourse. But that, Heidegger shows, is a limitation which comes from its narrowed conception of itself as strict, methodical science, and one need only turn to Parmenides before the tradition of metaphysics or Nietzsche at the end of that tradition to see that in fact Heidegger is right: philosophy and poetry are not necessarily to be dissociated. Indeed, the former can and should grow out of the soil of the latter. The point here is one which Heidegger might be said to have learned by experience: he found that the poetry of Hölderlin opened a way for philosophy out of the cul de sac into which phenomenological science had led it. And of course not only Hölderlin: Rilke was obviously important too. In fact to some, myself included, it seems that certainly as much as Hölderlin and perhaps even more, Rilke is the poet who displays the pre-metaphysical unity of poetry and philosophy. But that is not how Heidegger views Rilke. In respect to its philosophical value, Rilke's poetry, we are told, is inferior to Hölderlin's. There is, I suggest, a most puzzling blend of attraction and suspicion in Heidegger's interpretation of Rilke. On the one hand, Heidegger, perhaps better than anyone, is able to make clear the philosophical importance of Rilke's poetry and yet, having done that and having shown thereby the greatest sympathy for Rilke's thought, Heidegger goes on to portray Rilke as "metaphysical" and to claim for that reason that he is not the poet Hölderlin is. Is that assessment valid? And how did Heidegger arrive at it? It is to these questions that the following study is addressed. On my reading of "Wozu Dichter"1 the charge that Rilke persists in "metaphysical" thought has three dimensions. To begin with, the overriding consideration in the whole of the essay is that, like all "metaphysicians," Rilke is oblivious to the Being event. There are in 4 Philosophy and Literature turn two consequences which follow from that obliviousness: first, Rilke grounds all of what is in some highest existent, namely nature taken as will, and second, in turning inwards to consciousness he re-presents the original presencing of existents. The theme of grounding in a highest existent is worked out from page 256 (p. 100) to page 281 (p. 126) and that of the re-presentation in consciousness, from page 281 (p. 126) to page 294 (p. 141). It will become evident, I think, that the discussions of two other apparently separate questions, that of the Open and that of saying and singing, fit respectively into each of these major sections of the essay. Let us now consider the aspects of the charge that Rilke is "metaphysical" one by one. Just what does obliviousness to Being mean? It means obliviousness to the clearing or lighting {Lichtung). Heidegger, it must be kept in mind, distinguishes between what is and the event in which what is comes to be displayed as such. He refers to the event itself as the lighting and it is only in the light of the lighting, he tells us, that what is can be. Obliviousness to Being is obliviousness, not to some highest existent or even to the whole of beings, but to the Being event, to the lighting. "Metaphysics," in seeking the ontos on, the being which in being most truly underlies all other existents, forgets the event in which any being, even the highest, comes to be. Consequently, instead of experiencing temporal presencing, arising out of non-presence, das Nichts, "metaphysics" reduces anything which comes to be to something which always is in steady presence. Obliviousness to Being is, if seen in this way, obliviousness to the nicht-ist, das Nichts from which any ist originates. That shows up in Rilke in that for him beings are not "dissolved in void...

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