Constellation No. 7

Upon my first Visit I was bold to tell them who had not let fall all hopes of his Recovery, That in my sad Opinion he was not like to behold a Grashopper, much less to pluck another Fig; and in no long time after seemed to discover that odd mortal Symptom in him not mention'd by Hippocrates, that is, to lose his own Face and look like some of his near Relations; for he maintained not his proper Countenance, but looked like his Uncle, the Lines of whose Face lay deep and invisible in his healthful Visage before: for as from our beginning we run through variety of Looks, before we come to consistent and settled Faces; so before our End, by sick and languishing Alterations, we put on new Visages: and in our Retreat to Earth, may fall upon such Looks which from community of seminal Originals were before latent in us.


Sir Thomas Browne--Letter to a Friend Upon occasion of the Death of his Intimate Friend.

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Pour la plupart les visages mêmes de ces jeunes filles étaient confondus dans cette rougeur confuse de l’aurore d’où les véritables traits n’avaient pas encore jailli. On ne voyait qu’une couleur charmante sous laquelle ce que devait être dans quelques années le profil n’était pas discernable. Celui d’aujourd’hui n’avait rien de définitif et pouvait n’être qu’une ressemblance momentanée avec quelque membre défunt de la famille auquel la nature avait fait cette politesse commémorative. Il vient si vite le moment où l’on n’a plus rien à attendre, où le corps est figé dans une immobilité qui ne promet plus de surprises, où l’on perd toute espérance en voyant, comme aux arbres en plein été des feuilles déjà mortes, autour de visages encore jeunes des cheveux qui tombent ou blanchissent, il est si court, ce matin radieux, qu’on en vient à n’aimer que les très jeunes filles, celles chez qui la chair comme une pâte précieuse travaille encore. Elles ne sont qu’un flot de matière ductile pétrie à tout moment par l’impression passagère qui les domine. 


Marcel Proust--À l'ombre des jeunes filles en fleur.

Musæum Clausum

OR

BIBLIOTHECA ABSCONDITA

CONTAINING SOME REMARKABLE BOOKS, ANTIQUITIES, STATION & MOTION PICTURES & RARITIES OF SEVERAL KINDS, SCARCE OR NEVER SEEN BY ANY MAN, WO OR OTHERWISE, NOW LIVING

1. Adorno on "Rhoda" (1989). A collection of the celebrated Critical Theorist's writings on the legendary 1970s sitcom. With a preface by Soma Morgenstern, bête noir of the young Adorno and great-uncle of the show's eponym.


2. Goldie (1985). Biopic on Oliver Goldsmith starring Wallace Shawn.


3. Gould or Gulda? [UK title: Glenn or Gulda] (1987) by H. H. Stuckenschmidt. A comparative study of the two pianists and the swansong of the dean of German musicology. It poses such questions as "Which constitutes greater proof of pianistic genius: Gulda's nudism or Gould's hypervestitism?" and "Which event truly marked the death of classical music: Gould's interruption of his only recording session with Leopold Stokowski to chew the fat with Barbara Streisand or Gulda's first collaboration with Chick Corea?"


4. Loot of the Froom (1991). Third (?) solo effort by Fred Froom, the Tampa Bay area's preeminent Billy Joel lookalike and Todd Rundgren manqué, of i don't know why i'm telling you this obscurity. Its cover art consists of a full-body front-view shot of Froom clad in nothing but a pair of so-called tighty-whities and a pirate tricorn, festooned in rhinestone necklaces, and standing ankle deep in a pool of doubloons, all of the booty (apart from the undies) being obviously on loan from the hoard of a Gasparilla Day parade float-captain. Recorded at Morrisound studios (natch), and featuring Mike Pachelli on phoned-in lead guitar on two tracks.

5. Exit Pursued by a Bear (2007), a novel by Denis Bleuh. Septuagenarian writer-prostate cancer survivor Theodric Sakharmam finds his efforts to put the finishing touches on his career-crowning biography of George Plimpton continually stymied by the amorous advances of his “Number-One Fan,” a 350-pound retired male cop.

6. The Merchants of Venice (ABC, 126 episodes, 1965-77). Just like The Waltons, only with a southern-Californian setting. Also just like The Beverly Hillbillies, only not funny. Also just like Baywatch, only older-looking and more incestuous.

7.  A 33RPM seven-inch flexidisc included in the July 1979 issue of Gramophone and featuring bass-baritone Willard White singing the Queen of the Night's revenge aria ("Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herz") from The Magic Flute, backed with his rendition of Minnie Riperton's "Lovin' You."  

8. Spick and Span (Eight episodes, 1976, ABC).  Police drama pitched as “a(n) hispanic Starsky and Hutch,” it paired suave, cerrado-culo Spanish émigré detective Enrique “Span” de Lobo y Oveja (Ricardo Montalbán) with brash, garrulous, pizza-gourmandizing Puerto Rican sidekick Pepe “Spick” Ortíz (Freddie Prinze).  The mise-en-scène consisted mainly of frontal, in-car, two-shot takes wherein Span berated Spick for his ignorance of the glories of Spanish culture (Cervantes, flamenco, paella, tauricide, Corinthian leather, &c.), alternating with rapid-cut fight scenes wherein Spick extricated Span from various scrapes in which he had been landed by his lack of sensatez de la calle.  The show was canceled owing not, as one may suppose, to pressure from the Stateside Latino lobby but to a formal diplomatic protest by the Spanish government, who objected to the casting of  "un sucio mexicano" as a Spaniard.

Outtake from Boswell

BOSWELL. 'I was this morning in Ridley's shop, Sir; and was told, that Mrs. Pickard's little volume called Dr. Johnson's London, has sold very much.' JOHNSON. 'Yet the Journey to the Hebrides has not had a great sale. Sir,it is a mighty impudent thing. BOSWELL. 'Have you read the book?' JOHNSON (flying into a passion). 'Have I read the book, Sir! Dr. Johnson's London? I'd much sooner read a book entitled Dr. London's Johnson. In a duodecimo disquisition on that eminent physician's purportedly prodigious pizzle, I should at least hope to be afforded the extensive view of an object with which I am as yet wholly unacquainted at first hand.[1] No, Sir: the visitation of familiar places, under the guidance of a cicerone who must perforce exhibit them in the character of novelties, is such as may instigate only the most profoundly melancholy and terrifick train of speculations in the mind of the visitant.' Then, his inflammable corruption bursting into horrid fire, he 'breathed out threatenings and slaughter' against Mrs. Pickard, calling her a, 'Strumpet--a Robber--a Piratess;' and exclaiming, he'd 'burn and destroy her.'

During this tempest I sat in great uneasiness, lamenting his heat of temper; till, by degrees, I thought to divert his attention by adverting him to his own sentiments on this very topick. For, notwithstanding the high veneration which I entertained for Dr. Johnson, I was sensible that he was sometimes a little actuated by the spirit of vanity, and by means of that I hoped I should gain my point: 'But did you not yourself once remark to me, Sir, that "When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life"?' JOHNSON (cooling but a little). 'Indeed I did. But I was speaking of London as a vast terra incognita, an engine of new scenes and prospects, as against a repository or sarcophagous of dessicated memories, such as might have furnished amply lugubrious matter for the genius of Sir Thomas Browne or of the authour of Night Thoughts. For me, Sir, the wonderful immensity of this city consists in the innumerable unexplored little lanes and courts, the multiplicity of unfamiliar human habitations crouded together; rather than in such hoarily inurate loca johnsoniani as Johnson's Court and the Mitre. As Dryden says: "Strange cozenage! none would tread past streets again, Yet all hope pleasure from what still remain." For my part, I never passed a single paving-stone in my life which I would wish to re-tread, were an angel to make the proposal to me. I should venture to say, Sir, that had it not been for the tender regard I shall ever bear towards the memory of my dear wife, and, by extension towards her progeny,[2] I should not have revisited even my native city of Lichfield once in these last two-and-twenty years.'

I attempted to continue the conversation. He was so provoked, that he said, 'Give us no more of this;' and was thrown into such a state of agitation, that he expressed himself in a way that alarmed and distressed me; shewed an impatience that I should leave him, and when I was going away, called to me sternly, 'Don't let us meet to-morrow.'[3]

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[1] For all of Dr London's purportedly prodigious 'eminence,' this passage constitutes, to the best of the editor's knowledge, the only surviving allusion to his existence (and, axiomatically, to that of his member).

[2] His step-daughter, Miss Lucy Porter. MALONE.

[3] "I attempted...to-morrow.'" Cf. the parallel passage in Boswell's journal: 'BOSWELL. "Pray, Sir: let us continue our conversation." JOHNSON. "Give us no more of this." BOSWELL. "But, Sir--" JOHNSON. "Give us no more of this, thou porcifutuacious avenivore [=pig-fucking oat-eater--DR]!" I was much alarmed and distressed by this last expression, and said to him, "Well, Sir, you are now in a bad humour." JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir." I was going to stay, and had got no farther than the staircase. He pushed me, and frowning said, "Get you gone--out"; a peremptory mode of ordering me to leave, which I accordingly and immediately did, as he thundered down at me from two pair of stairs up, "Don't let us meet tomorrow!"'