Super Happy Fun Time!

I'd forgotten how much I love the Getty! While we were at the Getty we visited an exhibit on French Illuminations. Now, you have to understand that for Torrey I did my presentation on The Consolation of Philosophy and thus I have this sort of strange love for all things related to it. So when I saw these, I nearly jumped out of my skin!



Illustrations from a manuscript from "The Consolation of Philosophy." They are just so beautiful, and to actually see them was neat.

Muffins!!

ALGERNON
If it was my business, I wouldn't talk about it. [Begins to eat muffins.] It is very vulgar to talk about one's business. Only people like stock-brokers do that, and then merely at dinner parties.
JACK
How can you sit there, calmly eating muffins when we are in this horrible trouble, I can't make out. You seem to me to be perfectly heartless.
ALGERNON
Well, I can't eat muffins in an agitated manner. The butter would probably get on my cuffs. One should always eat muffins quite calmly. It is the only way to eat them.
JACK
I say it's perfectly heartless your eating muffins at all, under the circumstances.
ALGERNON
When I am in trouble, eating is the only thing that consoles me. Indeed, when I am in really great trouble, as any one who knows me intimately will tell you, I refuse everything except food and drink. At the present moment I am eating muffins because I am unhappy. Besides, I am particularly fond of muffins. [Rising.]
JACK
[Rising.] Well, that is no reason why you should eat them all in that greedy way. [Takes muffins from ALGERNON.]
ALGERNON
[Offering tea-cake.] I wish you would have tea-cake instead. I don't like tea-cake.
JACK
Good heavens! I suppose a man may eat his own muffins in his own garden.
ALGERNON
But you have just said it was perfectly heartless to eat muffins.
JACK
I said it was perfectly heartless of you, under the circumstances. That is a very different thing.
ALGERNON
That may be. But the muffins are the same. [He seizes the muffin-dish from JACK.]
JACK
Algy, I wish to goodness you would go.

A Poem (by me)

The call strikes and the shadows descend,
Morose, like statues they stand,
Through their faint whispers no message they send
A sea of grey tombstones upon the dead land.
The call strikes again yet no one pays heed,
No ringer required for this bell,
All come to witness the hideous deed
And see one more friend sent to hell.
One step on the grass and the earth beneath shakes
A glint from the hand blinds the eyes
Yet not from the shadows a quiver or quake
The moment before someone dies.
A footstep replies from across the straight way,
The ominous call repeats once again,
Time has come finally for one man to pay,
Two shadows face off on the plain.
How long is the wait before it begins?
The terror is strung on the air,
The final result of man's mortal sins,
All passions and hatred laid bare
Four shoulders heave as they're turned back to back
The shimmer of sweat on the brow,
Eyes bright and fierce but compassion they lack,
Sworn to murder with one solemn vow.
Each step that they take seems as long as a year
Time herself has stopped dead in her tracks,
But from the shadows no sorrow nor tear
Swiftly two shadows turn to attack.
A clear shot rings out upon the thin air
Each shadow piously lowers his head
An offers to God one silent prayer,
For the soul of the one who lays dead.
The shadows move not, but fixed in one place,
This ghastly performance now done
No grief do they feel, nor joy at the face
Of death who feels pity for none.
Feelings devoid, the shadows depart,
Leaving one victor to stand,
Nevermore beating one cold senseless heart,
The final curtain, the duel to demand.