https://thealembick.com The Alembick Thu, 30 Apr 2020 21:50:34 +0000 https://thealembick.com en https://thealembick.com/Editors-Note Mon, 27 Apr 2020 17:14:30 +0000 The Alembick https://thealembick.com/Editors-Note Editor’s Note October 26, 2019Dear Reader,     It is raining in St Louis as we prepare this issue for the press. It seems appropriate weather for All Saints’ Day, when the year turns dark and inward, but, independently of seasonal associations, I like rain for its own sake. It often happens, as it did to me this morning, that walking along under an umbrella one suddenly awakens to the sound of the rain spacking against the fabric. One notices the reflections on the wet brick of the sidewalk, the iron railing glistens, and the robin perched in the holly seems full of scruffy significance.     Why is it rain that wakes me up? I couldn’t say. I think I’ve made that walk a hundred times for every once I’ve lived it. I remind myself of the man in Martial’s epigram - tomorrow, he says, always tomorrow, that he’ll start to live. It seems such a simple lesson - that the wise have lived now - and so it seems silly that one needs to be reminded of it as often as one does. But I forget easily; I’m led on by the slightest distraction. And I’m presumptuous enough to say it’s not only my problem. Eight hundred years ago in Cologne we hear the complaint ‘similis sum folio de quo ludunt venti.’ We’re all of us hoping to stay awake, and we’re all of us surprised, each time we awaken, that we had slept so readily or so long.     The Alembick, whether or not beneath its superficial frivolity and high-spiritedness you can believe it, is a serious project. Its goal - our goal - is to remember to live, and to live the only time we can, which is now. You’ll notice this issue is particularly full of light verse. It’s what we happened to have on hand, and perhaps you’ll say that it cuts against the grain of what ought to be our seasonal theme of inwardness and reflection. Maybe so, but even play requires presence of mind. It takes as much composure, as much discipline, as much attentive quiet to sit down to write a bathic ode or epigram as it does to sit down to anything more wholly serious. The mind waiting for words is like the mind at prayer. Yours,    A. Pinguis (ED.) https://thealembick.com/Letters-1 Mon, 27 Apr 2020 17:14:31 +0000 The Alembick https://thealembick.com/Letters-1 Letters     We believe it fair to present our readers' views without censorship or further comment. -EDS. Dear Sirs,     I’m writing to protest in the strongest terms the publication of your periodical, the Alembick. Never in my life have I had the misfortune to encounter such a mangy, oafish, and utterly contemptible rag. It is, without a doubt, the most execrable magazine in existence. I hope, Sirs, that you may be persuaded to cease your sophomoric efforts and to close down immediately. The world will be a better place without your work. Yours, sincerely,    (Nigel Featherstone, Marquess of) Bunbury *** Dear Sirs,     It was with the utmost outrage that I first encountered your horrid paper Sunday last. I don’t know what the devil has gotten into you, but the rot that you’ve put out is extraordinary. Ghastly! Poems; prose; those short, witty thingies - vile, the lot of it. Ought not to be allowed!      If you’d have been in my regiment (and I sincerely wish you had), I would have had the lot of you lined up against a wall and shot. Prejudicial to the public morale and all that. Got to make an example! I’ve written to the PM to see if there isn’t some legal way to get you shut down. Until then, a turn in ranks might knock some sense into you. Yours, etc,     Maj. PRetQ Sir Horace Stuffington - Windbag, DSO, OBE, BEM *** RATHER MORE POLITE LETTERS Furthermore, we believe it behooves us as gentlemen to give our thoughtful opinion in response to our readers' requests for guidance. This is not legal advice.    -EDS. Dear Sirs,     It is with heavy heart that I write this letter. I shouldn’t like to trouble you, but I fear that I have no one else to whom I can turn in this matter. As you have a reputation as men of discretion and learning, I hope that you will help me.     My son, Gervase, is such a promising boy. Tall, handsome, so very clever, he’s a delight to his father and me. He has been reading the law at Lincoln’s Inn and hopes to be called to the bar in a very short while. I assure you, gentlemen, that Gervase is a bright boy and will make a wonderful lawyer. All the same, he’s taken up with a villainous little band of fellow-students and quite forgotten his studies. He’ll meet them at the Robe and Wig, or else the Three Scrolls, and they’ll stay out all night talking of - gentlemen, I hesitate to say, but you must know the truth - talking of poetry!     Time was that Gervase would come home spinning fancies about John Austin and Bartholemew Gosnold, but now he’ll hardly talk of anything except Byron and Keats. His father and I are worried half to death, and I have no idea what to do.     Oh gentlemen, won’t you talk some sense into my son? Your humble servant,     Constance Donothing *** Dear Madame,     If we may presume to say so, we are as shocked as you. The very idea that a young man should idolize such poets is more than we feared was possible even in this ignorant and degenerate age.     He ought to have learned long before reaching the Inn that Keats' method allows of no imitation, and everyone knows Byron's mode of life was fundamentally unsound. We recommend a course of humanistic reeducation, beginning with good old sensible Horace. Should he desire lighter reading in the modern languages, we don't hesitate to recommend Ben Jonson and the learned Dr. Donne as models of decorum.      Under this program we may hope for a speedy recovery. As ever, madame, your gallant advisors,    EDS. https://thealembick.com/Elegy Mon, 27 Apr 2020 17:14:31 +0000 The Alembick https://thealembick.com/Elegy Elegy  Divitias alius fulvo sibi congerat auro… This mightn’t be exactly what they meant,     Classically, at least, when they praised the life Of quiet leisure in the country - but     Making those changes that centuries demand, You’d surely say that this is close enough     And ought also to qualify for praise. Let others heap up riches - piles of gold -     Spend their life on work as forgettable As any other mortal enterprise.     I’ll enjoy my role, humbler, if you say, Of student with a graduate fellowship -     Surely our version of the ‘college living.’ It’s nothing like the salary you’d draw     Out in the real world, before or after, And certainly precludes all luxury.     Though it pays less, so it asks less. Who needs to live among the bourgeoisie,     Once you’ve got the basics provided for? I’m not ashamed to go by foot or bike,     Live on instant noodles and the library. This life is pleasant: time to sit and watch     Students on the quad, evening light on brick, The entire scene aglow with mellow sun     As the year slides on into October. Or later, once the winter’s come, how sweet     Laying long abed, one’s love in one’s arms, While all outside is storm and sullen snow.     What’s out there that’s worth leaving this to find? Don’t bother answering; I know already     Just what you would say. Sure it takes some will To turn down biglaw and its hundred thousands.     Maybe you think you won’t lose a thing by it. But you’ll lose years - and though it’s now somewhat     Unfashionable, let me remind you: The years are running out even as we speak.     All too soon “what then?” answers with silence. While fate allows it, let use take advantage     Of endowment funds, grants, and scholarships - A brief respite of time lived leisurely -     Nor too eagerly strive for later gain.                                                 T. BOWLES https://thealembick.com/Epigrams Mon, 27 Apr 2020 17:14:31 +0000 The Alembick https://thealembick.com/Epigrams Epigrams Loudly conducting his business, Drinking coffee and taking a call, What I find as I try not to listen is That he’s talking of nothing at all. * Freedom of speech, Won with violence. Did the Founders consider The virtues of silence? * One thing the world’s forgotten, to its loss: One’s born human but learns humanitas. * Cursed be contracts, property, and torts - A pox on casebooks, on every teacher warts! I dreamt the law would bring me untold riches; Instead I’m stuck with numbskulls, bores, and bitches. If only I’d listened when they said ‘don’t go’ ! There’s no kind worse than self-inflicted woe. ANON. https://thealembick.com/The-Battle-for-Terminal-F Tue, 28 Apr 2020 21:46:44 +0000 The Alembick https://thealembick.com/The-Battle-for-Terminal-F The Battle for Terminal F Food Court Dear Sirs, In light of certain recent Statements made by the President of the United States upon the celebration of the American Day of Independence, I have undertaken to write a brief history, in Verse, of an oft (and, might I add, sadly) o’erlooked episode in that Nation’s War of Independence. A pale imitation of the Eminence of Longfellow, Layamon, and Watterson, I hope it is, nevertheless, an Entertainment suitable for your esteemed Publication. I present, Sirs, THE BATTLE FOR TERMINAL F FOOD COURT America’s got glory, But one historic story Stirs patriotic hearts with its report: Hear tell of Old GeorgeWashington, Who led his loyal countrymen In battle at the Terminal F Food Court. My son, you must remember On an evening in December How the Continentals readied for a fight. They crossed the frozen Delaware To catch the Hessians unaware And kick them in the derrière In the night. Bold Washington, the general, (The best of men and venerable) Bade them march to Philadelphia - not a peep. For there, just off I-95, If our country wanted to survive, They had to catch those Hessians fast asleep. It was early in the struggle, and the Congress was in trouble As the British then could dominate the skies. They backed their harsh authority With air superiority they’d fighters, bombers, rotaries, drone spies. While the skies went uncontested The Americans were bested: They couldn’t move by daylight without fear. For His Majesty’s fighter-bombers were often wont to bother, Harass, annoy, and molestate their rear. Worse yet, in terms logistical, their transports packed with victuals kept garrisons supplied with food to spare. The Yankees tried besieging, cut supply lines and went reaving, but the British troops munched on without a care. The French had sent a fistful of anti-aircraft missiles But even those broughtWashington no luck. For the Redcoats (at their leisure) deployed counter-battery measures, electric jamming, flares, and pilot pluck. Washington’s desperate last resort Was to take the British airports And deny the RAF its landing-strips. (In the latter 18th century, land-based airports were obligat’ry, as you can’t land fighter jets on wooden ships.) At the Airport all was silent Unprepared for struggle violent As the Hessians slumbered off their Christmas feast. They’d controllers in the Tower Who with radar the skies scoured, But unwatched were all approaches to the east. Colonel Rall and his Lieutenants (with the Regimental pennants) Slept tightly in American’s Admiral’s Club. (AAdvantage Platinum Cardholders Receive discounts on all bar-orders Free wi-fi, and some complimentary grub.) Their men camped in the concourse, tossed uncomfortably on the hard floors or curled up on the seats as best they could. While out across the tarmac, Yankee troops prepared to a-ttack Checked their flints, formed ranks, and silent stood. At Washington’s command, the grenadiers in the van Quietly advanced on term’nal F. They garrotted the sentires, rammed the ramparts and made entries While militiamen advanced upon the left. Imagine the confusion, Hesitation and bemusion As the Hessians woke to find the Yankees there: They fled to’wards the food court And though some of them were stalwart, Some threw surrend’ring hands into the air. Colonel Rall and his Lieutenants (with the Regimental pennants) Heard the din and sallied forth into the night. “Halt this madness!” cried the Colonel, and despite the din infernal, the Hessian troops formed ranks and held them tight. The grenadiers in the van Tried to match them man to man, and the Food Court then became a roiling fight. Soon the sulfur’d smell of powder And the scent of spilled clam chowder, Told Washington that Rall would not give way. He rallied Contientals, and then through his oaken dentals Cried “Charge!” And plunged into the bloody fray. The valiant Contientals Earned themselves a heap of medals As they broke the Hessian lines by Gate F2. They chased the frightened Hessians From Sabarro and from Freshëns Jamba Juice, Au Bon, and Hudson News. Then the struggle was soon ended, And the Yankees wounds were mended, and the Hessians bonded under lock and key. As the sun began to waken, A rapid stock was taken, and Washington knew his army had to flee. So he told his sappers outright, “Take your semtex and your thermite And do your worst to all the aircraft here.” And explosions soon were sounded, And the RAF was grounded, And the Yankees all let out a grand old cheer. America’s got glory, But one historic story Stirs patriotic hearts with its report: Hear tell of Old George Washington, Who led his loyal countrymen to victory at the Terminal F Food Court.                                 M. DE PLOUM https://thealembick.com/Doggerel-for-a-Favorite-Justice Tue, 28 Apr 2020 21:47:25 +0000 The Alembick https://thealembick.com/Doggerel-for-a-Favorite-Justice Doggerel for a Favorite Justice Chancellor Kent! The man that you want When the law is bent - Chancellor Kent. There is no legal problem Too darkling for his sight; Knotty, thorny, troubled: Soon he'll set it right.     Chancellor Kent! etc. A dancer he, Of chancery, A scourge of all iniquity A bastion for The fashion wore At St. George's Inn of equity.     Chancellor Kent! etc. He's a Yale man, A hale man, The best one that we've got - He's never been Mistaken on What's truth and what is not.     Chancellor Kent! etc.             DAN ELLIHEW https://thealembick.com/To-a-Boon-Companion Tue, 28 Apr 2020 21:47:46 +0000 The Alembick https://thealembick.com/To-a-Boon-Companion To a Boon Companion O sovereign and most noble drink, O golden draught of liquid fire, You loosen tongues, cause minds to think, You stimulate hearts to desire. Your mellow and enchanting waft, Long-hid behind a barrel’s bung, Portends a sharpened, burning quaff Which melts to sweetness on the tongue. All earthly fame lacks permanence, And beauty soon from men does pass, So I’ll forswear all temperance And pour myself another glass. For all life’s journeys, safe or risky, There’s no more constant friend than whisky.                                           PHILLIP POTTS https://thealembick.com/More-Epigrams Tue, 28 Apr 2020 21:48:08 +0000 The Alembick https://thealembick.com/More-Epigrams More Epigrams No doubt they could solve it all I fwe'd but listen to their squall - I'd like to unlearn diffidence, Show them I am just as smart. Where'd they get the confidence? A dick is not a thinking part. * I’m used to being thought amusing Right now I see I’m not Is this because I’m not amusing? Or am I running too fast for your thought? * The bookstore's getting set for Christmas, Decked in wreaths of red and green - But if they checked their Advent calendars They'd find it's not yet Halloween. * Sitting in the theater at a show I marvelled at the ballerina's leap - Or would have, but in truth I found it slow And had by that time fallen fast asleep.                                         ANON. https://thealembick.com/All-Reasoning-s-Analogy Tue, 28 Apr 2020 21:48:24 +0000 The Alembick https://thealembick.com/All-Reasoning-s-Analogy All Reasoning’s Analogy If sleep death's image truly be, There's naught to fear. But those things we Consider similar are so Because we chose them. Who's to know But all resemblances are error? The sleep of death no metaphor With aught of truth - so on, so forth And all our estimates of worth Likewise in disarray. If one Were free enough to see it, then There'd be no hindrance: the visible A book, which fills the world until One starts from it, making the room seem New. The visible a dream.                                     A. PINGUIS https://thealembick.com/Editor-s-Note-1 Thu, 30 Apr 2020 21:50:34 +0000 The Alembick https://thealembick.com/Editor-s-Note-1 Editor’s Notes December 10, 2019 Dear Reader,         December is darkening, and I look forward to the warmth of the holidays: long evenings of chatting with friends, rich food, and, above all, the incomparable coziness of coming in from the cold. This is a season for merriment, and the satisfaction of rest after another year.         But when the bottles are empty, the plates are cleared, and chill January approaches, the contentment of the holiday season wears thin. The New Year nighs, and brings with it cold uncertainty about the future. Have we lived this year well? Will we live well in the next? Who by fire and who by water? Faced with these questions, we feel like Bede’s sparrow, safe for the moment from the icy blasts without, but uncertain ofwhat the outer darkness might hold.         Yet by the New Year, the darkest days have passed. The lengthening of days brings brightness and, with patience, spring. This December, may our thoughts of the year to come not be guided by recrimination or fear, but by brightness and hope. Let us look inward, and find cause for celebration in this year’s joys, and in its shortcomings opportunities for renewal.         As befits the season, the following pages contain both poems ofmerriment and poems of reflection. We have included our regular tranche of letts. to the ed., despite their businesslike (and, at times, insulting) tone. I would like to personally apologize to any reader whose sensitivities are wounded by the Ballad of St. Nicholas, an enthusiastic, if sacrilegious, effort to recall Father Christmas’s onetime role as both carrot and stick.         I hope, Dear Reader, that you may find entertainment and wisdom herein. Yours,     W. Carpus (ED.)