Facts about yourself!

[Iceni]

So we're talking about concrete-filled lead balloons being used for pillows?

That's a very roundabout way of characterizing a Pygmalian lust...

[FatherAlabaster]

Re: Facts about yourself!

That's a very roundabout way of characterizing a Pygmalian lust...

Sacrilege! There's no comparison between the satin, fleshlike smoothness of Greek marble and the rough-cast Roman stone of thy strained metaphor. Better that Icarus should give flying lessons, that Zeus should be heard to extol the virtue of marital fidelity, than that thou shouldst make these bedroom quips in thy upstart "language of love".

[Iceni]

Sacrilege! There's no comparison between the satin' date=' fleshlike smoothness of Greek marble and the rough-cast Roman stone of thy strained metaphor. Better that Icarus should give flying lessons, that Zeus should be heard to extol the virtue of marital fidelity, than that thou shouldst make these bedroom quips in thy upstart "language of love".[/quote'] Marble is a stone, and 'tis a great deal firmer even than D4V3 on a Saturday night.

[RelentlessOblivion]

A plague on both your houses knaves for thy crude counsel hast cast o'er me the likeness of a lunatic. Do you have any idea how awkward it is to burst out in laughter in the university library?

[FatherAlabaster]

Marble is a stone' date=' and 'tis a great deal firmer even than D4V3 on a Saturday night.[/quote'] Yea, even the soft and easy Carrara marble of Buonarroti's time were firmer than D4V3 after a few too many ciders; for he is destined to drink forever from that underworld river, which inflames the spirit, and yet makes limp the flesh. But dost not know "Roman stone" to be but a quaint term for that dull and grainy concrete, against which thou thrash'st thyself of a lonely eve? That same concrete, with which thou fill'st those lead balloons comprising thy most abstruse and deadly jokes? 'Twere not Galatea thou dids't hump, nay, but rather a simple dormitory pilaster.

[Iceni]

But dost not know "Roman stone" to be but a quaint term for that dull and grainy concrete' date=' against which thou thrash'st thyself of a lonely eve?[/quote'] Nay, I do not. 'Tis I that is concrete, and not the other; the strength and adamantine of which I consist being my traits and mine alone. And thou canst not deny 'tis an irony of historic variety yet sublimely meet that the Roman concrete shouldst eventually avail itself of the Greek material.

[deathstorm]

I love grante

[FatherAlabaster]

Nay' date=' I do not. 'Tis [i']I that is concrete, and not the other; the strength and adamantine of which I consist being my traits and mine alone. And thou canst not deny 'tis an irony of historic variety yet sublimely meet that the Roman concrete shouldst eventually avail itself of the Greek material.

Ha, knave - to in the same breath claim that thou art an atom unto thyself, and yet that thou art most assuredly a mere amalgam of water and of dust! Thy words do make a chimæra of thy thoughts. Thou may'st yet rival most noble Athena in many things, but never that thou did'st spring full-formed from any fearsome brow - Nay! Not adamant, but clay, or dust indeed! And your path, like all roads, leads from the quarry, to the sculptor's bench, and then - as you so rightly say - to Roman forms, and then beyond: your stones taken for hovels, the hovels razed to the ground, and so once again to dust, and aeons, and perhaps after aeons, to the quarry once more. No irony, in the end, but a trajectory common and inevitable. Mount thy concrete Galatea while thou can'st!

[Iceni]

And your path' date=' like all roads, leads from the quarry, to the sculptor's bench, and then - as you so rightly say - to Roman forms, and then beyond: your stones taken for hovels, the hovels razed to the ground, and so once again to dust, and aeons, and perhaps after aeons, to the quarry once more. No irony, in the end, but a trajectory common and inevitable. Mount thy concrete Galatea while thou can'st![/quote'] Aye 'twas my mode of thinking, so we have modes alike; save for one. 'Tis a quandry, a quarrying quandry in my sit, that Bernini's work is present but wanting vigorous animation! The figures he creates doth please the eye, but have a meaner effect upon the soul; as mutes without breath. Yea, they move, after a fashion, but they do not move me.

[FatherAlabaster]

Aye 'twas my mode of thinking' date=' so we have modes alike; save for one. 'Tis a quandry, a quarrying quandry in my sit, that Bernini's work is present but wanting vigorous animation! The figures he creates doth please the eye, but have a meaner effect upon the soul; as mutes without breath. Yea, they move, after a fashion, but they do not move [i']me.

Ah; our path, unlike the path of life, shall branch, yet meet again, only to split, and meet further on once more. Thy quarrying quandary is quantified thus: that none of these figures, disregarding their several seeming capabilities, want what they do not have. Which is to say that our eyes are imperfect vessels, capable of only little discernment; and which is to say that those stone figures which in fact move us, though they do not move themselves, can yet be discerned as mere architecture, whatever their glory. False cognates, made for fleeting joy. Far harder to see such a quality within ourselves. But look thou deeply, then, within perdurable David, or Laocoön's unending struggle: to no surprise, thou shalt find only lumpen stone, made of dust and of time. Look now within thyself! Thou shalt find more architecture, indeed a wondrous array of structures, rooms and halls, walls and doors - but all made of dust, however varied, and of time, however vast. Thou wouldst chase thyself through this marvelous maze, determined therein to find its inhabitant; I would applaud thy efforts, maintaining the while that the structure is sufficient unto itself, for as long as it should hold together. Where thou see'st the handcraft of a Bernini, there do I see the mindless work of wind, of water, and of stars... and yet we can both delight in observing this dizzying structure, and marvel that it came from dust.

[Iceni]

Ah; our path' date=' unlike the path of life, shall branch, yet meet again, only to split, and meet further on once more. Thy quarrying quandary is quantified thus: that none of these figures, disregarding their several seeming capabilities, [i']want what they do not have. Which is to say that our eyes are imperfect vessels, capable of only little discernment; and which is to say that those stone figures which in fact move us, though they do not move themselves, can yet be discerned as mere architecture, whatever their glory. False cognates, made for fleeting joy. Far harder to see such a quality within ourselves. But look thou deeply, then, within perdurable David, or Laocoön's unending struggle: to no surprise, thou shalt find only lumpen stone, made of dust and of time. Look now within thyself! Thou shalt find more architecture, indeed a wondrous array of structures, rooms and halls, walls and doors - but all made of dust, however varied, and of time, however vast. Thou wouldst chase thyself through this marvelous maze, determined therein to find its inhabitant; I would applaud thy efforts, maintaining the while that the structure is sufficient unto itself, for as long as it should hold together. Where thou see'st the handcraft of a Bernini, there do I see the mindless work of wind, of water, and of stars... and yet we can both delight in observing this dizzying structure, and marvel that it came from dust.

Didst thou ripose my claim, or writing in such sartorial prose (like as to thy habit) inscribe here instead thy next set of lyrics?

[RelentlessOblivion]

Cease thy incessant prattling ye exponents of the stoned path. Thy quarrying quandry I doth query for it doth seem rather dreary thou hast sought out hidden meaning in the stately form of yore.

[FatherAlabaster]

Cease thy incessant prattling ye exponents of the stoned path. Thy quarrying quandry I doth query for it doth seem rather dreary thou hast sought out hidden meaning in the stately form of yore.

Yea, far be it from thou to seek meaning; and even farther, to find it. No wonder, that the journey from quarry to bench tires the tender feet of thy Southern intellect.

[RelentlessOblivion]

I doth decree the superior path is that of the canvas for only this medium doth possess the quality of unbridled creativity and passion.

[FatherAlabaster]

Ah, indeed: a Raphael to our Donatellos and Ghibertis. Or perhaps an Arachne, weaving upon her loom? For indeed thou didst say nothing of paint, but only canvas; but my initial assumption must stand, for never let it be said of thee, that thou wert a man of the Cloth. No matter; thou must choose, after thine own heart, a metaphor that suits thy needs, as must we all, confined as we are to the cages of our several capabilities. I am content to think of thee as Raphael: cavorting in physical excess, a victim of thine own habits.

[BlutAusNerd]

Re: Facts about yourself!

Ah; our path' date=' unlike the path of life, shall branch, yet meet again, only to split, and meet further on once more. Thy quarrying quandary is quantified thus: that none of these figures, disregarding their several seeming capabilities, [i']want what they do not have. Which is to say that our eyes are imperfect vessels, capable of only little discernment; and which is to say that those stone figures which in fact move us, though they do not move themselves, can yet be discerned as mere architecture, whatever their glory. False cognates, made for fleeting joy. Far harder to see such a quality within ourselves. But look thou deeply, then, within perdurable David, or Laocoön's unending struggle: to no surprise, thou shalt find only lumpen stone, made of dust and of time. Look now within thyself! Thou shalt find more architecture, indeed a wondrous array of structures, rooms and halls, walls and doors - but all made of dust, however varied, and of time, however vast. Thou wouldst chase thyself through this marvelous maze, determined therein to find its inhabitant; I would applaud thy efforts, maintaining the while that the structure is sufficient unto itself, for as long as it should hold together. Where thou see'st the handcraft of a Bernini, there do I see the mindless work of wind, of water, and of stars... and yet we can both delight in observing this dizzying structure, and marvel that it came from dust.

Fuckin' A. Sent from my HTC PH39100 using Tapatalk 2

[deathstorm]

wtf are you guys talking about

[Iceni]

I am content to think of thee as Raphael: cavorting in physical excess' date=' a victim of thine own habits.[/quote'] I didst see him rather as possessing the delicacy of Van Gogh.

[FatherAlabaster]

wtf are you guys talking about

First religion, then Greek mythology, then history, then "philosophy of mind".

[Iceni]

First religion' date=' then Greek mythology, then history, then "philosophy of mind".[/quote'] All in a day's work.

[FatherAlabaster]

I didst see him rather as possessing the delicacy of Van Gogh.

The coloristic nuance of Motherwell, the grace of De Kooning, the exit strategy of Rothko...

[Iceni]

the exit strategy of Rothko...

Sorry, what's an exit strategy defined in artistic terms?

[FatherAlabaster]

Re: Facts about yourself!

Sorry' date=' what's an exit strategy defined in artistic terms?[/quote'] Wasn't talking about him as an artist, this particular time.

[Iceni]

Wasn't talking about him as an artist' date=' this particular time.[/quote'] I did a bit of research and I get the joke now...

[RelentlessOblivion]

Good on ya iceman you can explain the joke to me then because I'm done with research for the rest of the week