by EILEEN JOY
Only one of the above things is true, and we leave you to guess which, but what we will say is that after Jeffrey's beautiful talk at New York University last night, "The Weight of the Past," which had a lot to do with rocks and stones and how heavy and inscrutable they are [but are also good dancers!]--well, really, the talk was much more complex than this, but we are too tired to provide a brilliant precis at present--and after a lovely dinner arranged by Hal Momma, some of us retired to the Washington Square Hotel Bar where we stayed until they kicked us out. Not for smashing chairs or throwing the Bosworth-Toller dictionary at the bartender's head or for asking the security guard to please take his hands off of us and yes, we really would come out from under the table and leave, and quietly, but because it was late and because there are laws, people, laws about this sort of thing. And, oh yes, because we were good and ready to go.
Eileen, you forgot to mention the moment when we came into the bar (like a horde of wicinga, whatever those are), and one of the guys there asked us where we were from. I believe I answered, "The Middle Ages!" He seemed to accept this as a completely reasonable proposition.
It was a pleasure sharing conversation and spring rolls. Here is the wikipedia page for the Georgia Guidestones (which someone asked you about last night): http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Georgia_Guidestones. The monument was built, not discovered, in 1979.
Gah! Stupid train schedule making me leave stupid early.
Yes, Irina, I remember that, and after you said, "the Middle Ages," they asked, "which year? 1200?" And then I said, "1200 is for pussies, we do the 8th century." Or something like that.
Mo, it was wonderful meeting you and I look forward to seeing you again at Kalamazoo.
Ah yes, Eileen, and then I made some remark about Heloise....
So few smiles???
"1200 is for pussies, we do the 8th century."
Eileen, that is the single greatest thing I have ever heard. I want it on my tombstone.
. . . a certain swift and unaccustomed dilation of soul and an inpouring flood of light . . . -- Bernard of Clairvaux
The twelfth century IS . . .
A year and some later I must point out how incomplete this history is: yes we did leave that hotel bar, and then we went to another one (nautical themed if memory serves) where we ate dessert at 2 AM and stayed up for a few more hours drinking -- again if memory serves -- zombies.
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