Sentential Links #18

Time for our usual dose of context-free, clickable goodness. Cheerio!

:: Dear Catholic Church,

Please consider this my official resignation. I am done with you.

:: This is a danger with people who don't have money: it's never enough for them, because they really have no idea of how money works. (Permalinks here rarely work; if not, scroll down to the post dated September 24.)

:: So often I’ve wanted to just sit on the roof alone with my thoughts and an old fashioned telescope, the big unwieldy kind with all kinds of lenses and mechanical gears. Someday when I am eccentric and rich, I’ll have a whole house decorated with the theme of “Alice In Wonderland”. There will be old-fashioned astronomy equipment mounted on the roof. I’ll have an unwieldy old telescope and I’ll gaze at the stars. It will have gears and lenses I can turn and adjust. I’ll make notations of my observations in big dusty books. Eventually, the telescope and I will turn inward upon ourselves so many times, we’ll just disappear. For years the children and old people will talk about the lady up the street who spent her fortune on this big crazy house, and then one day she just disappeared… and the only thing missing was the telescope. (I hope Warren Ellis doesn't mind me quoting this in its entirety. I read it, found it just a wonderful passage, and was saddened to learn that its author died last week.)

:: Houses interest me. Not so much as aesthetic objects, though I am hardly immune to the pleasures of architecture—to grandeur, stark geometry, homeliness, or charm—but more as, well, containers of human life. In the hands of a good writer, setting serves as a virtual character.

:: There's been an unfortunate tendency among a small segment of the anti-war left to confuse the badness of the American invasion with the idea that the insurgency in Iraq has any morally redeeming qualities. There's also been an unfortunate tendency among a far broader swathe of the commentariat to confuse the badness of the Sunni insurgency with the idea that the people on the other are necessarily charming and admirable. The reality is far grimmer.

:: So, we've seen "The Young Indiana Jones." Sean Patrick Flannery was an early crush of mine. But what about the slightly older Indy? He got a PhD, right? What about the adventures of Indiana Jones, grad student? (Do read this. It's really funny.)

:: I have missed the gentle caress of the moon and stars, and the smell of late summer night jasmine on the wind. This month's moon is so bright it is almost day outside. Moon shadows everywhere. I am in love with life.

:: How sad that American Christianity seems to be shifting towards a straightforward apocalyptic death cult. How worrisome that it's possibly the most dynamic strain of Christianity in the developed world.

:: I made it through fine. Neither I nor my Dad lost power, and other than cleaning up some broken branches, no damage at my father's. My house has a single large branch down over my back fence, but the fence is fine so I only need to drag it out to the curb. No damage there either. (Wow. I forgot that Morat lived in Houston. I'm glad things are OK for him, as well as everyone else who came through better than expected.)

:: Not to take anything away from any of the other women I’ve known in my life, but to me, my wife is the single most attractive woman I’ve ever known. She’s inspired feelings in me I haven’t had since I was a teenager and some I've never felt before. I never tire of looking at her, and still after 6 years of living together, I can still be aroused by her simply walking across the room in a pair of overalls. (I know what he means, as long-time readers know. I just found this blog a couple of days ago -- I love the pun inherent in its title.)

:: I have been lucky that in all the competitions and masterclasses and jollies I have done, the juries have been charming and helpful and encouraging. (You have to like a post with lots of redacted swear-words.)

:: It brought on a brutally tender memory of Judy Garland. My father loved her deeply as a friend, and as her agent near the end of her life. They had marvelous, hilarious times together. (This is why I love blogging: it's the only aspect of my life in which encountering someone who knew Judy Garland is a real possibility.)

The end, for this week. Tune back in next Sunday for more sentential goodness.