Ο Αυτοκράτορας είναι γυμνός;

... The Newspaper Man … is disabled for ordinary business pursuits by a congenital erroneousness which renders him incapable of describing accurately anything he sees, or understanding or reporting accurately anything he hears. As the only employment in which these defects do not matter is journalism (for a newspaper, not having to act on its descriptions and reports, but only to sell them to idly curious people, has nothing but honour to lose by inaccuracy and unveracity), he has perforce become a journalist, and has to keep up an air of high spirits through a daily struggle with his own illiteracy and the precariousness of his employment.

***

… Οι Δημοσιογράφοι ... είναι ακατάλληλοι για την άσκηση οιουδήποτε άλλου συνηθισμένου επαγγέλματος, επειδή πάσχουν από εγγενή ροπή προς σφάλματα που τους καθιστά ανίκανους να περιγράψουν επακριβώς αυτό που βλέπουν ή να κατανοήσουν αυτό που ακούνε και εν συνεχεία να το μεταδόσουν πιστά.
Η μόνη εργασία, για την οποία τέτοια μειονεκτήματα δεν αποτελούν εμπόδιο, είναι η Δημοσιογραφία, επειδή οι εφημερίδες δεν είναι υποχρεωμένες να ενεργήσουν βάσει των δημοσιευμάτων τους, αλλά απλώς επιδιώκουν να πουλήσουν φύλλα στους αργόσχολους και τους περίεργους, οπότε ακόμη κι αν δημοσιεύουν ανακρίβειες ή αναλήθειες, το μόνο που διακυβεύεται είναι η υπόληψή τους.
Τα άτομα λοιπόν αυτά γίνονται κατ’ ανάγκην Δημοσιογράφοι, και προσποιούνται τους άνετους, ενώ δίνουν σκληρό καθημερινό αγώνα ενάντια στην αμάθειά τους και την αβεβαιότητα της εργασίας τους.

The Doctor’s Dilemma, Act IV (1906)
by George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950)

Μνήμη Αλεξ Μεσχισβίλι (1995-2006)

... the young men were waiting, a bunched group, heads down in the wind.
"Well, Vincent?" they said; and he stopped, and stopped singing.
They hit him in turn, beat him down to his knees, beat him bloodily down in the snow. They beat and kicked him for the sake of themselves, as he lay there face down, groaning. Then they ripped off his coat, emptied his pockets, threw him over a wall, and left him. He was insensible now from his wounds and the drink; the storm blew all night across him. He didn't stir again from the place where he lay; and in the morning he was frozen to death.
...
But the young men who had gathered in that winter ambush continued to live amongst us. I saw them often about the village: simple jokers, hard working, mild - the solid heads of families. They were not treated as outcasts, nor did they appear to live under any special stain. They belonged to the village and the village looked after them.

from "Cider with Rosie" (1959)
by Laurie Lee (1914-1997)

Ακριτος τ' άστρων όχλος

Notes on the Art of Poetry

by Dylan Thomas (1914-1953)

I could never have dreamt that there were such goings-on
in the world between the covers of books,
such sandstorms and ice blasts of words,
such staggering peace, such enormous laughter,
such and so many blinding bright lights,
spalshing all over the pages
in a million bits and pieces
all of which were words, words, words,
and each of which were alive forever
in its own delight and glory and oddity and light.


Σημειώσεις για την Τέχνη της Ποίησης

Ούτε που φανταζόμουνα τέτοια αναστάτωση
στο σύμπαν που κρύβεται πίσω απ' τις ράχες των βιβλίων,
τέτοιες αμμοθύελλες, τέτοιες ριπές παγωμένες από λέξεις,
τέτοια συγκλονιστική γαλήνη, τέτοιο γέλιο ομηρικό,
τόσα εκτυφλωτικά φώτα,
να κατακλύζουν αφρίζοντας τις σελίδες,
πλήθος αναρίθμητο,
όλο από λέξεις, λέξεις, λέξεις,
που η καθεμιά τους ζει για πάντα,
στη χαρά και την δόξα της, στο ξένισμα, στο φώς της.

FS/ATH I-1999

Αλαφροπάτητη

He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven
W. B. Yeats (1865–1939)

Had I the heaven's embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

Το χαμένο Blog

Alac, 'tis gone, 'tis lost and gone...

Fibs: A mad fad!

Fib-αλιεύματα:

Brush
Touch
Shy look
Then, once more
Now deliberate
What took us so long to begin?

by Anonymous


If
you
restrict
your options,
you may be surprised.
You might become more creative.

by illuminatedwax


Must...
stop...
fibbing!
Got to get...
back to my haikus!
So many syllables... wasted!

by mrogers


I
love
him but
he loves her
and since she is not
me, so then he is a fool, right?

by mara

He
is
far off
and I am
smitten with his words.
O how sweet, the taste of distance.

by mara


am
do
can could
should might must
would shall will did was

by Anonymous

Ευχαριστίες στον Αλέξη Σταμάτη που μάς γνώρισε τον κόσμο των Fibs.

Εθελοντές υποβάλλονται σε βασανιστήρια!!!

Αντιγράφω από το περιοδικό TIME, 10 Απριλίου 2006 (BOOKS: The Evolution of Faith) :
"... in Oxford, England, researchers at the Centre for the Science of the Mind are subjecting volunteers to severe pain to see if religious belief can help them cope with physical suffering."
Το πλήρες άρθρο ευρίσκεται εδώ: http://www.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,1179313,00.html

Εχουμε τρελλαθεί τελείως;