Academic discontent in Tel Aviv.
Rene Char in translation in the Brooklyn Rail which also has some fine fiction--Dawn Raffel is one I should have mentioned in my previous post.
Judd Apatow, latest cultural phenomenon the Hound does not get.
Check out the language in the discussion of De Beauvoir. Insert any iconic male thinker and adjust perspective.
David Byrne off-leash. Discovering a long-time idol's blog is a little, well, strange.
Are you old and flaky enough to remember The Prophet?
A very bad idea:
Rafael Alvero, who developed the concept, admits that the idea of a musical seemed ridiculous to him at first. But, he points out the diary of Anne Frank can be compared to a tragic opera.In Britain poetry can cure dementia:
"One sheds one's sicknesses in books," DH Lawrence once wrote, and the people I met on Merseyside agree with him that books - good books, anyway - are a form of therapy. "Prose not Prozac" is the prescription. Literature not lithium. A talking cure in the presence of Keats, Dickens or Shakespeare rather than a physician or psychiatrist.Yes, Ms. Hound, there is life beyond poetry...it's called fashion.
Well, more realistically (since the Hound is not about to wear anything that costs her monthly salary) it's called art.
Oh, and the Hound has met a muse. Artfag is on the scent in Toronto and asks the following in "The Toronto Manifesto"