WORK
“Without any wind blowing, the sheer weight of a raindrop, shining in parasitic luxury on a cordate leaf, caused its tip to dip, and what looked like a globule of quicksilver performed a sudden glissando down the centre vein, and then, having shed its bright load, the relieved leaf unbent. Tip, leaf, dip, relief – the instant it all took to happen seemed to me not so much a fraction of time as a fissure in it, a missed heartbeat, which was refunded at once by a patter of rhymes: I say ‘patter’ intentionally, for when a gust of wind did come, the trees would briskly start to drip all together in as crude an imitation of the recent downpour as the stanza I was already muttering resembled the shock of wonder I had experienced when for a moment heart and leaf had been one.”
—Vladimir Nabokov
—from Speak, Memory: An Autobiography Revisited
WORD(S)
frottage /FRAW-tawzh/. noun. Taking a rubbing from a textured surface, such as from a gravestone. Sexually touching or rubbing, while clothed, against someone. From French frotter (rub, scrub, scrape, caress).
“It glowed, an eerie, mechanical hatchery, replete with all the secret trip levers of an ingenious Max Ernst frottage.” (Richard Powers)
“His hand slides slowly down the pole, touching her fingers, so she bids her fingers retreat. He chases, they bump again, she retreats farther. Their hands slide down, all without eye contact. One of many daily contests here. Beware of frottage. Readjust your balance at every lurch. If you don’t know what time it is, wait for a peek when he changes his grip.” (Colson Whitehead)
“He riffles through his drawer, handing me one last ‘curiosity object,’ an English pamphlet describing every conceivable sexual act, beginning with frottage…” (Malena Watrous)
WEB
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Some amazing engineering, ancient and most contemporary.
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My whole life is research into this → Sitting Too Much Can Change Your Brain & Impact Your Memory, A New Study Says
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Every once in a while, a crossword puzzle scratches an itch. A good, free bet: Will Nediger, who posts an original, “erudite, witty idie puzzle” every Monday.
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SkyKnit: When knitters teamed up with a neural network
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Lu Xinjian’s City DNA series: complex abstract art based on views from Google Earth using colors based on the city and national flags of each city.
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I knew Kit Kats were popular in Japan because I’ve tried some of their regional variations. But now I know why.
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Mayochup is a thing. I can’t wait for Mustaise or Mayotard.
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Grammar gripes: why do we love to complain about language?
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Of course an air conditioning company would create a fascinating look at 20 Incredible Ways Animals Keep Cool. And I learned the word (a)estivation.
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Today in 1922, novelist, poet and entomologist Vladimir Nabokov is born in Saint Petersburg, Russia. Though English was Nabokov’s second language he was one of its finest craftsman with a penchant for dazzling wordplay and verbal puzzles that reward multiple readings. I don’t think you can go wrong with Nabokov, but if my recommendation matters, Lolita (so underestimated and misunderstood) or Pale Fire are the best places to start.
WATCH/WITNESS
Prince - Nothing Compares 2 U official video.
WHAT!?
10 Satirical Covers for the Terrible Books You Can’t Get Away From: Imaginary cover designs for the worst clichés in publishing.
REPRISES/RESPONSES/REJOINDERS/RIPOSTES
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Reader B.: “Another fine word-hoard! ¶ That Powers interview made me deeply happy. I need to catch up with his latest novels. I loved Galatea and Plowing the Dark. Had lunch with him once – brilliant, generous, kind man.”
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Reader S.: "Thanks so much for the link to the Richard Powers interview. I have Generosity: An Enhancement on my desk, out from the library, hoping to get to it soon. And now a new one, The Overstory.
The interview was worth it for this insight alone:
‘I believe the reason for that retrenchment into the personal is that we have all completely habituated to the first tenet of commodity-individualism: meaning is entirely something we make for ourselves. We have absorbed that belief so completely it is impossible for most of us even to imagine that there might be other possibilities. But there is, of course, a meaning of and for trees, a meaning to the hugely interconnected living world that cares very little for human meaning.’
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