Herbie Mann Comin' Home

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

The Measure Of All Things



On my way to coffee, a segment of lecture, Aristotle.  

On mature, self-disinterested friendship being the fullest

On friendship as the basis for polispolis for family, even.

On reaching a pause, going to a classical FM, a guess at Haydn

On later finding that correct per online playlist

On taking an extra ten to drive the neighborhood here, high

On the hill, on the alpine horn, string tremolo, and fresh Fall air

On shutting it off, the car, the sound, the responsive eyes and ears

On figuring, then, the shortfall from the best -- how far we are.


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7 comments:

  1. Mature, self-disinterested friendship. Yes.

    Thanks for your kind visit today.

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  2. I think I can see you, parked in the car, eyes half-closed and not unhappy.

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  3. Ruth,

    Aristotle's actual phrase the lecturer thought untranslatable, and the lecturer's version sounded to me to mean that kind of giving maturity without quid pro quo.

    My visit to your site was my pleasure, for sure.


    Karin,

    Yes. Something like that, like a split second really, two seconds, of 'contemplation'.

    Now that you mention it, something like the expressive quiet of Raymond Burr fingering the Good Book on TV in those voice-over public service prayer readings from the 60s, Ray in the park getting a dose of spiritual refreshment just before the station sign-off with the Air Force jets commanding the skies.

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  4. In the room the women come and go
    Talking of Michelangelo.

    Just a touch of T.S.in there Bro.
    Good post.
    Bravo.

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  5. Love your poetry. Love Woody Allen. Glad to have stumbled onto your delightful blog.

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  6. I like this poem, all good - the last four lines (and especially the first two of those four)hit greatness.

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  7. Well. This post got a bit of action!

    Ian. Always good to hear from you. I do know a woman who could be caught in candid surprise and be talking about Michelangelo, though more likely Mies van der Rohe, William Morris, or Greene and Greene. Now in Corvallis, Oregon, she's surprised me in not getting an honorary home bought for her in San Francisco on some sunny, rolling hill overlooking the bay. She's never ruffled, impeccable in style.

    Chris. Coming from you, the noun 'greatness' packs a wallop. I take that as high praise, but will beg off actually deserving it.

    Willow. It's my turn to investigate your tastes. Reaching out to 'millions', it's exceptionally fine to touch even 10.

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