don't waste even the hour it takes to read this Worst book you've ever read: don't waste even the hour it takes to read this

By Chris L. on Monday, May 17, 1999 - 10:12 pm:

    As our english teacher told us we were to read Old Man and the Sea I was fairly happy that we were going to read a man's book. But I soon discovered how long an old drunk could ramble on avout fishing and Joe Dimaggio. And the icing on the cake, an internet report with questions that cannot be answered. Here's to you Lurch! Mrs. Sreblow is the worst teacher in history!

By Agatha on Tuesday, May 18, 1999 - 02:13 am:

    what exactly is a "man's book"?

By Cyst on Tuesday, May 18, 1999 - 06:02 am:

    a book about an old drunk rambling about fishing and joe dimaggio?

    I'm working my way through the penguin popular classics. last night I finished "the woodlanders" and started "tender is the night."

    how likely do you think it is that thomas hardy read andreas cappelanus' (sp?) "the art of courtly love"?

    one paragraph in "the woodlanders" seems to have been lifted directly from that text. it's about how love is always waxing or waning, it is never constant.

By Nate on Tuesday, May 18, 1999 - 02:01 pm:

    are we really going to do this all again?

    i'm going to start a coalition to ban the use of OMatS in education.

    we are not ready for the backlash.

By Semillama on Wednesday, May 19, 1999 - 12:08 pm:

    They should read Ambrose Bierce instead.

By Me of course on Sunday, March 25, 2001 - 02:57 pm:

    You are puee gay

By Me of course on Sunday, March 25, 2001 - 02:57 pm:

    You are pure gay

By Pug on Sunday, March 25, 2001 - 04:05 pm:

    Not an Ambrose Bierce fan, I gather....

By Nate on Sunday, March 25, 2001 - 06:36 pm:

    i stirred a spoonful of puee gay into my mate' this morning.

    a loving spoonful.


By cyst on Sunday, March 25, 2001 - 08:20 pm:

    until I just reread this thread, I had no memory of having read thomas hardy's "the woodlanders."

    now that I am so busy going to rock shows among people years my junior and wasting money at mediocre but pricy restaurants, it's hard for me to remember ever having been so bored I would read even the obscure works by 19th-century british writers.

    I think I must have read every jane austen novel before I ever even tasted prosciutto. now I feed on ahi but take months to plod through a short graphic novel.

    yesterday I got picked up in an import SUV and was driven by a book editor to the most traditional baby shower I have ever attended. on the way we talked not about thomas hardy or even ernest hemingway or don delillo or martin amis, but about stephen king and gwyneth paltrow.

    we also talked about a mutual acquaintance who had just started working for the new york review of books, but what we discussed was where her manhattan apartment was and how much she was paying for it. she, a lesbian, and I, someone who never wears jewelry, discussed another acquaintance's great big diamond engagement ring in warm tones of approval and understanding.

    and the baby shower. the baby shower. we played games and everyone acted normal. I wondered if I could pretend that I didn't win the first game.

    see, the hostess had passed out little toy diapers, which she had cut from felt, pinned up, and dipped in paraffin so they could act as solid little candy holders. she had filled them with pastel-colored mints, except at the bottom of one of the diapers there was "something that looks like what you would find in a baby's diaper!"

    at the bottom of mine was a chocolate-covered raisin.

    in this room full of females, I was sitting next to my boss, who I like and respect. this is probably just as excruciating for everyone else, I thought. but we all have to do it. ok. ok.

    "look!" I said. "a poopie!"

    everyone laughed, and I got to choose a wrapped gift. it was a box full of chocolate easter eggs from williams & sonoma or whatever that fancy place is called. they were good, of course. I ate those but not the chocolate-covered raisin.

    then we had to measure out how much toilet paper we thought it would take to wrap around my coworker's waist. I was glad I had long arms when I tried not to touch her much when stretching the paper around the huge belly of this nice woman who happens to sit in a cubicle near mine at the office.

    later on I wondered if I was obliged to actually make the sound "ooh" or "ahh" when she opened the gifts. I remember reading all the tags attached to the baby clothes, the explanations of how well the companies treat the egyptian workers who spin the organic cotton or whatever.

    the carrot cake was rich and beautiful. "the flowers are all edible," I'd been told, so I went ahead and ate the daisy on my slice. "it's bland," I said when asked.

    I almost kept pretense up the whole time, but at the end, when the poor mother-to-be thanked my for my gift, I told her, "oh, come on. you don't even remember what I gave you."

    then I hated myself. it wasn't just as excruciating for everyone else -- it was even worse for her. I had quickly followed with "oh, I'm just teasing you!" but she still had to think, what, what, and then she remembered -- the overalls. (from gymboree, along with a little zippered sweatshirt, and a onesie from old navy -- none of it organic but all cute, cute, cute!)

    I left with the book editor and I immediately reneged on my vow never to say another unnecessary phrase ever again, and we talked about saints, the spanish theresa and the french therese. theresa was the intellectual one, but therese was the precious one, the little flower who died of tuberculosis ("consumption," I thought, "she died of consumption") when she was just 25.

    the driver told me how therese's whole life had been a campaign for sainthood. her parents had raised her to be a beautiful little martyr, and, voila, she was. when she got sick, she started writing her own autobiography. she died in the early 1900s, then was soon beatified "through popular acclaim."

    I'm going to turn 30 and I'm not a mother. I'm not a book editor nor an SUV driver (not even a lesbian, not even a saint). sure, I eat cured european ham and organically raised flowers, but my credit card didn't work at the grocery store today. and I haven't read a thomas hardy novel (available in used bookstores everywhere for 99 cents a shot) in years. I don't read zines, and I don't read about how to make paraffin-covered, diaper-shaped candy holders in martha stewart's living. to tell you the truth, I'm not sure what it is that I do, what I've been up to.

    still, even now, 2001, I'm neither here nor there, and it's too late for me to die young. but I'll probably have morew of those bacardi gold daiquiris made with fresh mangos and key limes.

By Bobby on Sunday, March 25, 2001 - 10:14 pm:

    Have you lost your way?

By Nate on Monday, March 26, 2001 - 12:12 am:

    with crook and flute will you lead the flock, o' bobby?

By Bobby on Monday, March 26, 2001 - 01:54 am:

    Not I. Lost my own way long ago. Used to know who I was and where I was going, but misfortune, detours, backtracking, and wanderlust have derailed me. Empathize with Cyst's sensation.

By Czarina on Monday, March 26, 2001 - 10:26 am:

    But Cyst,at least you got the poopie!

By Pug on Monday, March 26, 2001 - 06:35 pm:

    I visited Therese's basillica in France, when I lived there----she was the one where it rained flowers when she died, right?
    I switched schools a month into my senior year----read JUDE THE OBSCURE by Thomas Hardy in one school and I switched to the next in time to read TESS OF THE D'URBERVILLES....I learned enough to appreciate Hardy's intent (indictment of Victorian hypocrisy) but I ended up so fucking depressed I missed school for like 2 weeks.
    I will never read anything by that fucker way in hell.

By Cat on Monday, March 26, 2001 - 06:40 pm:

    I love Hardy on a rainy day with a box full of chocolates and some red wine.

By Pug on Monday, March 26, 2001 - 06:52 pm:

    Rain about puts the proper atmosphere on it.....

By Czarina on Monday, March 26, 2001 - 07:01 pm:

    I love to dance nekid in the rain.

By Cat on Monday, March 26, 2001 - 07:04 pm:

    Wasn't it Hardy whose heart was buried in his wife's grave, while the rest of him ended up at Westminster Cathedral?

    A friend of mine has a relative buried at Westminster and when we went to find him, we discovered he had been buried with another man. It made us giggle for days.

By Pug on Monday, March 26, 2001 - 07:15 pm:

    Hardy was a sad bastard----the Victorians crucified him for "Jude"----about ruined his career. Same shit that happened to Herman Melville in the states when he started writing anything of note----minus the religious sanctions....same shit that happened to Ibsen when he started questioning Swedish convention....
    I don't dance very well....I just DRINK nekkid in the rain.

By Pug on Monday, March 26, 2001 - 07:16 pm:

    In fact I'm nekkid and drunk as I write this.

By Czarina on Monday, March 26, 2001 - 07:51 pm:


By Pug on Tuesday, March 27, 2001 - 09:28 am:


By pez on Tuesday, March 27, 2001 - 06:13 pm:

    what kind of dancing?

    irish, tap, ballet, jazz, modern, interprative, ballroom?

    this is depressing. rain on the subject, rain outside my window. . . maybe that's good, considering the "drought". *sigh*

    still. . . who do you think you are, charlie brown?

By Rhiannon on Tuesday, March 27, 2001 - 08:29 pm:

    I dream about St. Therese of Lisieux all the time.

    She wasn't groomed to be a saint. She chose to be. She chose to enter a Carmelite cloister at 15, giving up every comfort she had enjoyed with her family. Her sister was the mother superior, but she wasn't allowed to see her parents again. Even living in as strict a place as the cloister was, she would do little things to make sacrifices....little, unshowy things like never sweeten her tea or sit back in her chair. She was ordered to write her autobiography. Other sources describe her sacrifices; she didn't write about them herself. She called herself a little flower because she recognized how insignificant she was next to the "roses," like St. Theresa of Avila. She saw herself as a road-side weed.

    St. Theresa was also ordered to write her autobiography, by the Inquisition. They were suspicious of her ecstasies. She had been a very beautiful, very intelligent, and very charming lady with many suitors before she became a nun. She was still very beautiful, intelligent, and charming afterwards.

    Dirty Inquisitors.

By Czarina on Tuesday, March 27, 2001 - 08:44 pm:

    Flamenco.My castinets empower me.

By semillama on Tuesday, March 27, 2001 - 09:28 pm:

    "The Dirty Inquisitors" would be a good name for a band.

By Spider on Tuesday, March 27, 2001 - 10:30 pm:

    You know, I thought the same thing.

By Pug on Wednesday, March 28, 2001 - 09:08 am:

    I still like "The Shitty Beatles"....

By Lapsed Catholic Pug on Wednesday, March 28, 2001 - 09:12 am:

    One of the Theresas----I forget which one----wrote long screeds about the merits of suffering, as I recall....
    I always confuse the Theresas.

By crimson on Wednesday, March 28, 2001 - 09:24 am:

    that was st. teresa of avila, i believe. st. therese of liseux was the "little flower" (the one who's always associated w/ roses). st. teresa of avila pre-dated The Little Flower considerably & was really into the whole suffering thing. she used to drink pus from cancer patients' sores as a sign of her humility.

By Pug on Wednesday, March 28, 2001 - 09:44 am:


By Rhiannon on Wednesday, March 28, 2001 - 09:54 am:

    No, that was St. Catherine of Siena. St. Theresa of Avila was a cloistered nun and wasn't around cancer patients.

    St. Catherine of Siena was quite a woman. She used to get in arguments with the pope over theological doctrine all the time. And win. She tended to go a bit far when it came to mortification, though.

    St. Theresa of Avila was what's known today as a holy anorexic. She hardly ever ate.

By Pug on Wednesday, March 28, 2001 - 10:15 am:

    Rhiannon----there's this tune Nick Cave does called "Katrina the Astonishing"....know anything about her?
    And which one is it that has the Basillica in France? Helluva place....
    Thinking its the Little Flower---not sure, though.
    I was 13 at the time.....

By Rhiannon on Wednesday, March 28, 2001 - 11:04 am:

    Christina the Astonishing

    Christina the Astonishing lived a long long time ago
    She was stricken with a seizure at the age of twenty-two
    They took her body in a coffin to a tiny church in Liege
    Where she sprang up from the coffin just after the Agnus Dei.
    She soared up to the rafters, perched on a beam up there
    Cried "The stink of human sin is more than I can bear".

    Christina the Astonishing was the most astonishing of all
    She prayed balanced on a hurdle, or curled up in a ball
    She fled to remote places, climbed towers and trees and walls
    To escape the stench of human corruption into an oven she did crawl.

    Christina the Astonishing behaved in a terrifying way
    She would run wildly through the streets, jump in the Meusse and swim away
    Christina the Astonishing behaved in a terrifying manner
    She died at the age of seventy-four in the convent of St. Anna.


    No, I haven't heard of her before. There may very well have been a St. Christina like this, or Nick Cave could have just made it all up. He tells great stories. St. Joseph of Cupertino is said to have flown around like Christina in the song. He's also said to have eaten rotten vegetables in order to mortify his sense of taste. (Just because they're saints, doesn't mean they always had great ideas. And actually, he's supposed to have been rather slow-witted.)

    I'll have to check on the Basilica...though I'm sure St. Therese has some big thing dedicated to her, because she's a favorite of many.

    I wrote a paper on religious self-mutilation for a cultural anthropology course I took in my freshman year of college. Lots of saints did all kinds of strange things. That's one reason St. Therese is a favorite...she always said that God doesn't want you to kill yourself, and if you want to make sacrifices, make little ones with a lot of love. None of this flagellation business.

By pez on Wednesday, March 28, 2001 - 12:47 pm:

    they mostly sound nuts.

By cyst on Wednesday, March 28, 2001 - 12:57 pm:

By Dougie on Wednesday, March 28, 2001 - 01:25 pm:

By Rhiannon on Wednesday, March 28, 2001 - 01:41 pm:

By Basil on Tuesday, April 3, 2001 - 06:56 am:

    I don't know what you guys are into with some kind of nonsense things with the nuns? Oh ,ewww! so you guys wanted do some crossdress with the nuns clothes? youre a sicko!

By Chelly Monkey on Monday, April 18, 2005 - 06:44 pm:

    St. Christina the Astonishing wasn't made up by Nick Cave. She really did exist. Whether or not she did everything attributed to her is another story all together. LOL Thomas du Cantimpre wrote a book about her just eight years after she died- back in the twelfth century. It's been translated since then, and you can still find copies around if you know where to look. She was one CRAZY lady! :)

By Pluviosilla on Saturday, June 25, 2005 - 08:44 am:

    Well, I just read (in William Miller's Anatomy of Disgust) that St. Catherine of Siena drank pus as a mortification. Miller appears to be a responsible scholar, and so I took what he said at face value, but he is also thoroughly anti-christian, so I decided to browse around & see what other people had to say about this. I found this thread. What's the topic here? Strange practices of saints?

By deefosster on Friday, May 19, 2006 - 12:12 pm:

    On the subject(s) of nuns and eating- I think that if an order were to make their own sacred brand of exclusive chocolate, they could market it as "CARAMELITE"- a new order (who could play the jingle............remember where you heard it first!

The Stalking Post: General goddam chit-chat Every 3 seconds: Sex . Can men and women just be friends? . Dreamland . Insomnia . Are you stoned? . What are you eating? I need advice: Can you help? . Reasons to be cheerful . Days and nights . Words . Are there any news? Wishful thinking: Have you ever... . I wish you were... . Why I oughta... Is it art?: This question seems to come up quite often around here. Weeds: Things that, if erased from our cultural memory forever, would be no great loss Surfwatch: Where did you go on the 'net today? What are you listening to?: Worst music you've ever heard . What song or tune is going through your head right now? . Obscure composers . Obscure Jazz, 1890-1950 . Whatever, whenever General Questions: Do you have any regrets? . Who are you? . Where are you? . What are you doing here? . What have you done? . Why did you do it? . What have you failed to do? . What are you wearing? . What do you want? . How do you do? . What do you want to do today? . Are you stupid? Specific Questions: What is the cruelest thing you ever did? . Have you ever been lonely? . Have you ever gone hungry? . Are you pissed off? . When is the last time you had sex? . What does it look like where you are? . What are you afraid of? . Do you love me? . What is your definition of Heaven? . What is your definition of Hell? Movies: Last movie you saw . Worst movie you ever saw . Best movie you ever saw Reading: Best book you've ever read . Worst book you've ever read . Last book you read Drunken ramblings: uiphgy8 hxbjf.bklf ghw789- bncgjkvhnqwb=8[ . Payphones: Payphone Project BBS . torturechamber . . receipts . contact