
The new issue of Slayage, 8.1, now subtitled "The Journal of The Whedon Studies Association," is now available.
Devoted to media matters, politics, poetry, creativity, the evolution of consciousness, and autobiographical reflections, "The Laverytory" is the blog of David Lavery, literature, film, and television scholar/critic, now teaching at Middle Tennessee State University.


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If there is such a place as "on top," if there is a sensation of riding a life span's crest, it does not last ten or twenty years. On the contrary, the crest is so small that I, for one, missed it altogether.
You are young, you are on your way up, when you cannot imagine how you will save yourself from death by boredom until dinner, until bed, until the next day arrives to be outwaited, and then, slow slap, the next. . . . Life by its mere appalling length is a feat of endurance for which you haven't the strength.
But momentum propels you over the crest. Imperceptibly, you start down. When do the days start to blur and then, breaking your heart, the seasons? The cards click faster in the spokes; you pitch forward. You roll headlong, out of control. The blur of the cards makes one long sound like a bomb's whine, the whine of many bombs, and you know your course is fatal. (Teaching a Stone to Talk)



They're known for creating mannered, sardonic fictional worlds shaped as much (or more) by film history as by real life. But in recapturing the vanished realm where they grew up -- a self-enclosed world of Midwestern Jewish suburbia -- the Coens have crafted perhaps their most original work, one that presents itself, early on, as middleweight middle-American domestic comedy before revealing a strange and secret power that's closer to magic or myth.
A ripple of wind comes down from the woods and across the clearing toward us. We see a wave of shadow and gloss where the short grass bends and the cottage eaves tremble. It hits us in the back. It is a single gust, a sport, a rogue breeze out of the north, as if some reckless, impatient wind has bumped the north door open on its hinges and let out this acre of sent familiar and forgotten, this cool scent of tundra, and of November. Fall! Who authorized this intrusion? Stop or I’ll shoot. It is an entirely misplaced air—fall, that I have utterly forgotten, that could be here again, another fall, and here it is only July. I though I was younger and would have more time. The gust crosses the river and blackens the water where it passes, like a finger closing slats. (Teaching a Stone to Talk)

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Stephen Hawking warns against contact with aliens. Sounds like someone's running for governor of Arizona.
Creation itself was the fall, a burst into the thorny beauty of the real” (Pilgrim at Tinker Creek).
Maybe we shouldn't educate women. It worked great for Sarah Palin.
--Stephen considers whether the Taliban might be right
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| Indecision 2010 Midterm Elections - Sue Lowden | ||||
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I dreamed that I floated at will in the great Ether, and I saw this world floating also not far off but diminished to the size of an apple. Then an angel took it in his hand and brought it to me and said, “This must thought eat.’ And I ate the world.” (Pilgrim at Tinker Creek)
We have to harness older people as a resource. Their wisdom and knowledge is a huge resource, whether it is middle-class professionals becoming consultants when they retire, or looking after grandchildren so their own children can work. They are the social glue running things. All of this needs to be harnessed. Yes, the old will have to work longer. Why not? We will need to work harder on medical technology to ensure that the old stay fitter longer. Much of the reproductive revolution happened by keeping young kids from dying. Now we need another revolution to keep the old fitter for longer.
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| Fred Pearce | ||||
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Flung is too harsh a word for the rush of the world. Blown is more like it, but blown by a generous, unending breath. That breath never ceases to kindle, exuberant, abandoned; frayed splinters in every direction and burgeon into flame. (Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
Ryan Howard: Did this happen on company property?
Michael Scott: Yes, it was on company property, with company
property. So, double jeopardy, we're fine.
Ryan: I don't ... I don't think you understand how jeopardy works.
Michael: Oh, right. I'm sorry: What is, "We're fine?"
I was standing lost, sunk, my hands in my pockets, gazing toward Tinker Mountain. . . . All at once I saw what looked like a Martian spaceship whirling towards me in the air. It flashed borrowed light like a propeller. Its forward motion greatly outran its fall. as I watched, transfixed, it rose, just before it would have touched a thistle, and hovered pirouetting in one spot, then twirled on and finally came to rest. I found it one spot, then twirled on and finally came to rest. I found it in the grass; it was a maple key, a single winged seed from a pair. Hullo. . . . O maple key, I thought, I must confess I thought, O welcome, cheers. . . . And now when I sway to a fitful wind, alone and listing, I will think, maple key. When I see a photograph of earth from space, he planet so painterly and hung, I will think, maple key. When I shakes your hand or meet your eyes I will think, two maple keys. if am a maple key falling, at least I can twirl. (Pilgrim at Tinker Creek)
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| Bernie Goldberg Fires Back | ||||
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The problem with the tea party movement, besides their almost universal rejection of dentistry, is that they want money for nothing and chicks for free. They want a deregulated free market and their jobs to stay here in the US; they want guaranteed health coverage regardless of preexisting conditions without a big government mandate; they want to call themselves teabaggers and people to keep a straight face. And of course they want big tax cuts along with deficit reduction. I can't even think of a suitable analogy for that disconnect--it's like thinking getting a handjob will clean your garage.
--Bill Maher, "New Rules"
“We are most deeply asleep at the switch when we fancy we control any switches at all. We sleep to time’s hurdy-gurdy; we wake, if we ever wake, to the silence of God. And then we wake to the deep shores of light uncreated, then when the dazzling dark breaks over the far slopes of time, when it’s time to toss things, like our reason, and our will; then it’s time to break our necks for home. (Holy the Firm)

It's sort of like Neil Gaiman by way of Tobe Hooper.
[Language] is like a beam of light on Venus. There, on Venus, heavy atmospheric gravity bends light around the entire circumference of the planet, enabling a man, in theory, to see the back of his own head. Now, the object of every artist's vision is, in one sense, the back of his own head. But the writer, unlike the painter, the sculptor, or composer, cannot form his idea of order directly in his materials; for as soon as he writes the least noun, the whole world starts pouring back onto his page. So fiction, using language like a beam of Venusian light to see the back of its own head—to talk about its own art—makes a very wide tautological loop. It goes all around the world of language's referents before coming back to its own surface. (Living by Fiction)
There will come soft rain and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum-trees in tremulous white;
Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;
And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.
Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree
If mankind perished utterly;
And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,
Would scarcely know that we were gone.

Thought itself is impossible, for subject can have no guaranteed connection with object, nor any object with God. Knowledgeable is impossible. We are precisely nowhere, sinking on imaginary seas themselves adrift. Then we reel out love’s long line toward a God less lovable than a grasshead, who treats us less well than we treat our lawns. (Pilgrim at Tinker Creek)

I'd like to congratulate Ms. Chloe O'Brian on her recent promotion to Director of CTU-New York. I'm aware how many petty bureaucrats, moles, and just plain loose cannons there are in your agency, and I feel much better as a Brooklynite knowing that the safety of New York is in your able hands.
Yesterday I watched a curious nightfall. The cloud ceiling took on a warm tone, deepened, and departed as if drawn on a leash, I could no longer see the fat snow flying against the sky; I could see it only as it fell before dark objects. Any object at a distance—like the dead, ivy-covered walnut I see from the bay window—looked like a black-and-white frontispiece sheet through the sheet of white time. It was like dying, this watching the world recede into deeper and deeper blues while the snow piled; silence swelled and extended, distance dissolved, and soon only concentration at the largest shadows let me make out the movement of falling snow, and that too failed. . . . It was like dying growing dimmer and deeper and deeper and then going out. (Pilgrim at Tinker Creek)
Risky investments are like risky sex. It's more exciting. If you make the banks wear a condom you won't be able to feel it when they're fucking us over.

Mocke: Why aren't you afraid of me?
Desmond: I've come to understand that there's nothing to fear, but fear itself.
Mocke: I hate to break this to you, but I AM FEAR ITSELF.
No one has ever seen fish.
Fish secrete highly reflective compounds
That act as a skin of mirror.
It is thought the fishes’ sides
are painted in landscapes,
mountainous. (Tickets for a Prayer Wheel)


Our vegetarian vampires, I think, are afflicted with the same crises of conscience that we are as first-world twenty-first century humans. We eat too much, we shop too much, we use too much fuel, water, land; we mistreat the animals on which we depend for food and the other peoples whose labor produces for us the cheap abundant goods we have all grown so used to. The vampire’s insatiable hunger for blood mirrors our insatiable hungers for food, wealth, property, and possessions. Contemporary vampire fiction mirrors our collective anxiety about our need for self-discipline and a return to a more humane approach to our fellow beings: Now, the vampire, the most appetitive and unrepentantly murderous of our culture’s mythic archetypes, restrains himself in our popular fiction. He has become a “vegetarian” of sorts, the vampire version of a Whole Foods shopper, who prefers humanely raised meat, free range eggs, sustainably farmed produce. From the shimmering pâleur of the vampire radiates something new and hardly otherworldly: an aura of white liberal guilt.
Emily Colette Wilkinson--
There is no such things as an artist; there is only the world lit or unlit as the light allows. (Holy the Firm)
When I was young I thought that all human beings had an organ inside each lower eyelid which caught things that got in the eye. I don't know where I imagined I'd learned this piece of anatomy. Things got in my eye, and then they went away, so I supposed that they had fallen into my eye-pouch. This eye-pouch was a slender, thin-walled purse, equipped with frail digestive powers that enabled it eventually to absorb eyelashes, strands of fabric, bits of grit, anything else that might stray into the eye. Well, the existence of this eye-pouch, it turned out, was all in my mind, and, it turns out, it is apparently there still, a brain-pouch, catching and absorbing small bits that fall deeply into my open eye. (Pilgrim at Tinker Creek)
The future is the light on the water; it comes, mediated only on the skin of the real and present creek. My eyes can stand no brighter light than this; nor can they see without it. . . . We can’t take the lightning. But we can take the light, the reflected light that shines up the valleys on the creeks. (Pilgrim at Tinker Creek)
The Vatican has forgiven the Beatles. That explains why the altar boys are singing "Help."
A structure becomes architectural, and not sculptural, when its elements no longer have their justification in nature.
--Guillaume Apollinaire
A building is akin to dogma; it is insolent, like dogma. Whether or no it is permanent, it claims permanence, like a dogma. People ask why we have no typical architecture of the modern world, like impressionism in painting. Surely it is obviously because we have not enough dogmas; we cannot bear to see anything in the sky that is solid and enduring, anything in the sky that does not change like the clouds of the sky.
--G. K. Chesterton
Okay, fine. What's your "genius" theory for why Sideways Desmond ran down Sideways Locke?
Again, another scene that left me chilled and baffled, which made me dig it even more. I think we have to wonder if Sideways Desmond is now fully self-aware with all of his Island memories, past, present and future. I don't think Desmond ran down Sideways Locke for revenge. I think it's possible that Desmond tried to kill Sideways Locke to prevent Fake Locke from migrating into Sideways Locke's body, but that strikes me as cruel that Desmond would basically murder an innocent man just to prevent his future corruption. So I'm thinking the most likely scenario for a hero like Desmond is this: I think Fake Locke has been inside Sideways Locke all along, and Desmond tried to kill him to force Fake Locke back into the Island world.
Or maybe Desmond is just a really bad driver. He is from Scotland, you know. Maybe he's not used to driving on the proper side of the road.
BUFFY: Ok. College is good.
XANDER: Ok, uh, once more with even less feeling.
BUFFY: No, really! I-I mean, Willow's in heaven and Oz has this really cool house off campus with the band.
XANDER: And you're sitting here alone at the Bronze looking like you just got diagnosed with cancer of the puppy.
BUFFY: It's just... there was this vampire, and she took me down, and I just... I don't know how to stop her.
XANDER: Then where's the gang? Avengers assemble! Let's get it going!
From "The Freshman" (BtVS 4.1)

We shape our buildings: thereafter they shape us.
--Sir Winston Churchill
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| Julian Assange | ||||
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The principle of the Gothic architecture is infinity made imaginable.
--Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Architects, painters, and sculptors must recognize anew and learn to grasp the composite character of a building both as an entity and in its separate parts. Only then will their work be imbued with the architectonic spirit which it has lost as “salon art.” . . . Together let us desire, conceive, and create the new structure of the future, which will embrace architecture and sculpture and painting in one unity and which will one day rise toward heaven from the hands of a million workers like the crystal symbol of a new faith.
--Walter Gropius
An architect should live as little in cities as a painter. Send him to our hills, and let him study there what nature understands by a buttress, and what by a dome.
--John Ruskin
An Insight Into The Right
09 Apr 2010 01:14 pm
It comes from Family Feud, and a contestant is asked to say things that apply to Ellen Degeneres. Gay? Yes. Funny? Yes. Married to Portia? Yes. Then the father says that "she doesn't like her country very well."
Ellen? Cheery, inoffensive, humorous. Idol-mainstream, all-American, beloved chat show icon, Ellen?
Translation: she's a lesbian and all homosexuals are anti-American.
Sometimes the real view comes seeping out into plain view. On national television. That guy voted for Palin. You know it.
The physician can bury his mistakes, but the architect can only advise his clients to plant vines.
--Frank Lloyd Wright
Castiel (very drunk): I found a liquor store.
Sam: And?
Castiel: And I drank it.
--"99 Problems"
Is it so bad, then, to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood.
--Ralph Waldo Emerson
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Things are in the saddle and ride mankind.
--Ralph Waldo Emerson
I'm talking about spectacular, consciousness-altering love. Do you know what that looks like?
--Sideways World Charlie Pace
SPECIAL LIMITED TIME OFFER! Construct your own crazy Doc Jensen Lost theory with my new ''Doc Jensen At Home Theory Making Kit!'' Just send me $299.99 and I'll send you a notepad, a pencil, a list of Wikipedia links, and a copy of Richard Linklater's 2001 movie Waking Life. Compare Desmond's Sideways journey in "Happily Ever After" to the Dazed and Confused director's acclaimed trippy semi-animated navel gazer. Bonus points if your 4000 word essay includes references to the film criticism of Andre Bazin, the revolutionary politics of Situationist International, and the book The Society of the Spectacle. Order your kit today!

For Sideways skeptics, I'm guessing the episode either won you over or scared you away for good. Let me more provocative: If you've been a Sideways hater, and you remain one after last night's episode, you may as well call it a wrap on your Lost interest and skip ahead to the rest of your post-Lost life.
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When Nature has work to be done, she creates a genius to do it.
--Ralph Waldo Emerson
A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesman and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do.
--Ralph Waldo Emerson
Science was my favorite subject in school--especially the Old Testament.
--Kenneth the Page, "Kidney Now!" (3.22)
It was a high counsel that I once heard given to a young person, ‘Always do what you are afraid to do.’
--Ralph Waldo Emerson


So our coming of age forces us to a true recognition of our situation vis-à-vis God. God is teaching us that we must live as men who can get along very well without him. The God who is with us is the God who forsakes us (Mark 15:34). The God who makes us live in this world without using him as a working hypothesis is the God before whom we are ever standing. Before God and with him we live without God. God allows himself to be edged out of the world and onto the cross. God is weak and powerless in the world, and that is exactly the way, the only way, in which he can be with us and help us. (Letter of July 16, 1944.)
God is absent in the towns, in the fields, in the mountains and in the plains. He is absent in law, in science, in education and in morals. He is even absent in the lives of the religious for they, who still want to be his friends, have no need for His presence. God is absent as never before. . . . To be absent has become one of the qualities of God.
Every word is a fossil poem.
--Ralph Waldo Emerson
BC announced that in addition to an hour-long retrospective and the two-hour series finale on Sunday, May 23, we’ll also get a special late-night edition of Jimmy Kimmel Live at 11:35pm. The long-time Lost supporter will have masterminds Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse as guests to discuss the end as well as several of the show’s stars. So buckle up for FOUR hours of Lost that night.
Poetry was all written before time was.
--Ralph Waldo Emerson
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| CNN Hires Erick Erickson | ||||
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No one maintains order like Scientologists, except for Republicans. You talk smack about these guys and you're persona non grata at every bondage-themed strip clip in Hollywood.
Stephen Colbert, discussing recent charges of of abuse again Scientologist leaders
Like Disneyland, but without all of that anti-Semitism.
--Ash, a resident of Heaven, explaining the nature of the place to Sam and Dean in "The Dark Side of the Moon"
To believe your own thought, to believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all men, that is genius.
--Ralph Waldo Emerson


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Imagination is not a talent of some men but is the health of every man.
--Ralph Waldo Emerson