Month: January 2005

  • Wine for Poets

    Odd how few poets emerged from the Second World War. The First World War produced plenty. Some, like Rupert Brooke, thought they were going to be Homeric heroes––he died without hearing a shot fired in anger, and is buried on the island of Scyrus, where Achilles hid among the women. Others—Charles Sorley, Wilfrid Owen, Siegfried…

  • One Step Forward, Two Smokes Back

    One of the upsides of not being a serious athlete is that you can feel a little less guilty about smoking and drinking with impunity. But you can always count on certain subcultural elements to contradict even that plain truth. Bike couriers, for example. They seem to take special pleasure in doing everything, well, extreme.…

  • Feeding the Volunteer Army

    It’s February, and if you aren’t carbo-loading for the Birkebeiner, then you could be carbo-loading on behalf of your local public broadcaster. Can it be long before the next round of pledge drives hits the airwaves? The last time this happened, I volunteered all over town to sample the culture and the carbohydrates. First I…

  • We Really Clicked

    In the past three weeks, I’ve been browsed 253 times, though I wonder if that number includes the twice-daily peek I take at my own profile, like a quick glance in the mirror as I pass by. Tickle.com first lured me to its domain with a promise to rate my intelligence. While other indicators have…

  • Micro-Opera!

    With its cast of starving poets and musicians and creative squatters, Puccini’s La Bohème has not only inspired generations of bohemians; some would say it’s the best known and most accessible opera in the canon. When someone goes to the opera for the first time, frequently it’s to see La Bohème. It has also been…

  • Letter from Modena >> Devil in the Details

    Apart from the usual stuff—saving four-leafed clovers, never opening an umbrella inside the house, throwing a broken mirror into a stream—Italians observe a mind-boggling array of superstitions. When I walk with Italians on the street, I notice many little tics and odd gestures. Most Italians have elaborate routines designed to bring good luck and avoid…