Bistro Bijou

[Angeline]

*looks at his degree in philosophy*

Might explain why I've been called a manwhore on occassion...

Philosophy? No wonder we're so simpatico. (My son is majoring in philosophy--the college major of the subversives!)

*Offers homemade banana-blueberry-granola muffins all round.*

 

[Homburg]

Philosophy? No wonder we're so simpatico. (My son is majoring in philosophy--the college major of the subversives!)

*Offers homemade banana-blueberry-granola muffins all round.*

It really was a subversive decision for me. Aside from loving it, was a comment on the higher education establishment in general. To quote myself, what good is this degree over any other arts degree? A BA is a BA is a BA. So I might as well study something I bloody well enjoy.

And philosophy degree requirements were so thin that I could chase all sort and manner of oddball electives. This allowed me to enjoy a "classical education".

*eats a muffin*

 

[Angeline]

It really was a subversive decision for me. Aside from loving it, was a comment on the higher education establishment in general. To quote myself, what good is this degree over any other arts degree? A BA is a BA is a BA. So I might as well study something I bloody well enjoy.

And philosophy degree requirements were so thin that I could chase all sort and manner of oddball electives. This allowed me to enjoy a "classical education".

*eats a muffin*

My son took a lot of crap from some of his relatives (not me or his dad) over the decision to major in philosophy. But really, if you did a random sample of liberal arts majors, how many of them are doing anything remotely related to what they studied? My position is that, unless you're doing work you need some special certification for, employers only care that you have a degree, not what your major was. So you might as well major in something that interests you.

Classical education is a good thing. If I could go back and do it again (and who knows, maybe someday I will), I'd study classics. One of my college roommates was an art history/classics major and I still remember her translating some of the Catullus she was reading for me. Woah!

 

[unpredictablebijou]

These are great muffins except that they don't actually exist.

But then neither do I, so I can still eat them.

It's a little surreal around the shop today...

mmm. muffins.


bj

 

[Homburg]

My son took a lot of crap from some of his relatives (not me or his dad) over the decision to major in philosophy. But really, if you did a random sample of liberal arts majors, how many of them are doing anything remotely related to what they studied? My position is that, unless you're doing work you need some special certification for, employers only care that you have a degree, not what your major was. So you might as well major in something that interests you.

Classical education is a good thing. If I could go back and do it again (and who knows, maybe someday I will), I'd study classics. One of my college roommates was an art history/classics major and I still remember her translating some of the Catullus she was reading for me. Woah!

Exactly. My employers don't care what I studied 10+ years ago. It's not relevant. It wasn't relevant when it was 10+ years ago and the ink was still wet ont he diploma. They cared that I had a check in that box marked "Degree?"

I didn't actually get much classics. The school wasn't really offering much of aprogram in it. Took what I could though.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Well my ten years of undergraduate work in Literature Written by Dead White Men, 300 C.E. to 1750 C.E. certainly paid off in my career path... lawl. roffle.

bj

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Philosophically, yes. Physically, not particularly

You wanna?

 

[Angeline]

Exactly. My employers don't care what I studied 10+ years ago. It's not relevant. It wasn't relevant when it was 10+ years ago and the ink was still wet ont he diploma. They cared that I had a check in that box marked "Degree?"

I didn't actually get much classics. The school wasn't really offering much of aprogram in it. Took what I could though.

People may bitch about my alma mater Rutgers (not you, lol, but a lot of people where I came from did) not being academically as good as the Ivy League schools, but I think it was/is a great school. It's so close to NYC that people really want to teach there, and thus they get great profs working there. When I was an undergrad there (at Douglass actually, the um girl's school), Paul Fussell was in the English department, so was Elaine Showalter who was my advisor and is a foremost scholar on Victorian Studies. Alan Ginsberg and Susan Sontag both taught seminars there (I was too young to get into Ginsberg's, but I heard him speak at the school a bunch of times). Lots of amazing people there. God I miss college. All I really ever wanted to do was go to college all my life. And write poetry. And screw. Not necessaily in that order, but honestly I can't think of a better life.

 

[Homburg]

Philosophically, yes. Physically, not particularly

You wanna?

Aren't you just a friendly thing? Fly me over to the UK and I'll see about recreating your av with you

------

People may bitch about my alma mater Rutgers (not you, lol, but a lot of people where I came from did) not being academically as good as the Ivy League schools, but I think it was/is a great school. It's so close to NYC that people really want to teach there, and thus they get great profs working there. When I was an undergrad there (at Douglass actually, the um girl's school), Paul Fussell was in the English department, so was Elaine Showalter who was my advisor and is a foremost scholar on Victorian Studies. Alan Ginsberg and Susan Sontag both taught seminars there (I was too young to get into Ginsberg's, but I heard him speak at the school a bunch of times). Lots of amazing people there. God I miss college. All I really ever wanted to do was go to college all my life. And write poetry. And screw. Not necessaily in that order, but honestly I can't think of a better life.

You got that right. College, poetry, screwing, these are things I can get behind. Literally in one case.

That's some solid name-dropping there. None of my profs has a big name. Nor any worthwhile publications. Well, I'm aware of none, let's put it that way. One was egotistical enough to state that none of the books on critical thinking were worth the pulp they were printed on, and wrote his own book for use in his courses. And, wow, talk about proving his own point. His book simply added to the impressive pile of critical thought books that were an insult to the printer's craft.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

God I miss college. All I really ever wanted to do was go to college all my life. And write poetry. And screw. Not necessaily in that order, but honestly I can't think of a better life.

I am so very much hearing your words, o yes my sister.

I was gonna be a bluestocking Chaucer prof in some minor college where no one appreciated me, or else be that crazy old bat in the back of the Oxford libraries, doing textile preservation on the medieval herbals and the Bayeux Tapestry...

then I realized I'd probably have to wear pantyhose, so I quit teaching english and went into shiny objects, where no one can tell me I can't wear my most excellent new superman shirt to work.

BTW, UYS, 'tarting' is one of the finest verbs I've heard all day.
And today has been rather rich in verbs.

I'm off now but I'll leave this:

Rockin' Drag Queen!

hearts
bj

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Tsk I got 'Referral Denied'!

 

[Angeline]

I am so very much hearing your words, o yes my sister.

I was gonna be a bluestocking Chaucer prof in some minor college where no one appreciated me, or else be that crazy old bat in the back of the Oxford libraries, doing textile preservation on the medieval herbals and the Bayeux Tapestry...

then I realized I'd probably have to wear pantyhose, so I quit teaching english and went into shiny objects, where no one can tell me I can't wear my most excellent new superman shirt to work.

BTW, UYS, 'tarting' is one of the finest verbs I've heard all day.
And today has been rather rich in verbs.

I'm off now but I'll leave this:

Rockin' Drag Queen!

hearts
bj

Pantyhose is a strong deterrant to choosing the academic life! I love studying and learning all sorts of arcana, but many academics I've worked with were arrogant and smug and boring. OTOH, I did get to learn from them that you can sing any Emily Dickinson poem perfectly to The Yellow Rose of Texas. That's what academics consider a hot old time, I think. Singing A Noiseless Patient Spider to The Yellow Rose of Texas.

Happy Thursday, gorgeous.

 

[loststar]

pantyhose

pantyhose can be fun, if you know what to do with them, and dont care about their condition afterwards...

by the way I am new here, and would like to thank all of you for providing top notch entertainment. I cant wait to jump in.

 

[Homburg]

I am generally in the anti-panty hose contingent. Yes, they can be fun to cut off, but too many people make the mistake of using them for binding. BAD IDEA.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Hi Loststar welcome ... Bijou who is also from Kansas will be along with all sorts of goodies to tempt your pallet

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Bienvenue, babies!

I am banging away at my actual job today, so it's all shiny and crazy and stuff.

Famous pantyhose wearers

Welcome, fellow Kansan. Have some pie?

Or a cookie?

ANGELINE:
OTOH, I did get to learn from them that you can sing any Emily Dickinson poem perfectly to The Yellow Rose of Texas. That's what academics consider a hot old time, I think. Singing A Noiseless Patient Spider to The Yellow Rose of Texas.

You can sure tell a true English major geek by the fact that they always think that's vastly amusing.

We have one-person sing-alongs at my house until they beg me to stop. That's how I get my way. I also do a Hall and Oates set that could make your ears bleed.



And yes, Hommie. I've found UYS so friendly and adorable I'm about to hire her as Official Hospitality Grrrl.

Her contract stated that her cleavage also gets a paycheck. I said no problem.

bj

 

[Shankara20]

Welcome, fellow Kansan.

and from another Kansan here welcome - we do love our state



now, where the hell did I toss my pantyhose last night ?????

 

[unpredictablebijou]

and from another Kansan here welcome - we do love our state

The Flint Hills are extraordinarily beautiful, but one must have a subtle eye. Thanks for posting that. I get to drive through there next weekend, to Junction City. And it'll all just be barely starting to turn green. Yay!

now, where the hell did I toss my pantyhose last night ?????

lol!

Some redtail will get those and work them into her nest. And her chicks will grow up to be transvestite hawks.

It's the cross-dresser trickle-down effect.

bj

 

[Angeline]

Bienvenue, babies!

I am banging away at my actual job today, so it's all shiny and crazy and stuff.

Famous pantyhose wearers

Welcome, fellow Kansan. Have some pie?

Or a cookie?



You can sure tell a true English major geek by the fact that they always think that's vastly amusing.

We have one-person sing-alongs at my house until they beg me to stop. That's how I get my way. I also do a Hall and Oates set that could make your ears bleed.



And yes, Hommie. I've found UYS so friendly and adorable I'm about to hire her as Official Hospitality Grrrl.

Her contract stated that her cleavage also gets a paycheck. I said no problem.

bj

They're probably really more like Liz and Sir Richard in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, but it scares me to think that.

Nice coyotes.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

They're probably really more like Liz and Sir Richard in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, but it scares me to think that.

Nice coyotes.

Golly, nobody's ever called them coyotes before. Puppies, yes.

seriously, thanks, doll. I got the other one in on time, for what it's worth, though I'm not confident in it. I'll put it away for a year and then look at it again.

I dunno. It's more Monty Pythonesque than Virginia Woolfian around my house.

Hence the bad singing.

bj

 

[Homburg]

It's the cross-dresser trickle-down effect.

bj

*snicker*

 

[snowy ciara]

Don't mind me, I'm just stalking bj, Hommie and Shank as I contemplate burning my diplomas...

 

[Homburg]

Don't mind me, I'm just stalking bj, Hommie and Shank as I contemplate burning my diplomas...

And more bleedover from the BDSM boards happens. Look out kids, the kinky people are taking over!

(Fortunately it has only been blindingly cool people like Shanks and Snowy. You're safe, as they're artsy, literate kinksters. And, wow, if we could but summon the beloved Cutiemouse back, oh my, she would be such an addition to our lovely establishment.)

the Snowy.

 

[Angeline]

Golly, nobody's ever called them coyotes before. Puppies, yes.

seriously, thanks, doll. I got the other one in on time, for what it's worth, though I'm not confident in it. I'll put it away for a year and then look at it again.

I dunno. It's more Monty Pythonesque than Virginia Woolfian around my house.

Hence the bad singing.

bj

I wrote a poem about how it is in my house. Not to push my own poems, mind you, but this really is how it is: what I didn't have and what I have now.

Dharma Life

Bob Dylan and Middle English
reign on this love supreme.
Poetry slides down walls, rolls
in cookpots. Words simmer.
Strophes and stanzas bubble.
We harmonize in cantos.

I look at my knee, pick up
a scabbed rhyme dropped
from my stony past,
and press on another phrase.

He brings me music.
He brings me books.
Kerouac speaks in his voice,
Dharma is lionized with smiles.
Mouths sing metaphors.

We're two wacked out intellectuals,
he laughs, then reads
from some medieval text.

I feel lazy like a sunflower, swayed
and dark eyed, lifted from the storm,
brighter with poetry alive in hips, legs,
fingers searching the bristly texture
of his sweet face.





We haven't sung any Emily/Texas yet, but we sang San Francisco Blues once.

 

[Homburg]

I wrote a poem about how it is in my house. Not to push my own poems, mind you, but this really is how it is: what I didn't have and what I have now.

Dharma Life

Bob Dylan and Middle English
reign on this love supreme.
Poetry slides down walls, rolls
in cookpots. Words simmer.
Strophes and stanzas bubble.
We harmonize in cantos.

I look at my knee, pick up
a scabbed rhyme dropped
from my stony past,
and press on another phrase.

He brings me music.
He brings me books.
Kerouac speaks in his voice,
Dharma is lionized with smiles.
Mouths sing metaphors.

We're two wacked out intellectuals,
he laughs, then reads
from some medieval text.

I feel lazy like a sunflower, swayed
and dark eyed, lifted from the storm,
brighter with poetry alive in hips, legs,
fingers searching the bristly texture
of his sweet face.





We haven't sung any Emily/Texas yet, but we sang San Francisco Blues once.

When I die, I want to reincarnate as a cat living in your house.