Life in the Empire
Far from the Madding Crowd
Inspired by a comment our Pan made on Tribe RBC
Few Victorian classics I've had the pleasure of reading come close to this one. I had heard the title before but couldn't recall the source of that. Far from the Madding Crowd ....I grabbed it and made a B-line for the cashier. I was not to be disappointed. In one way or another, each of us can see a reflection of our own lives in that of Gabriel....
Description of Farmer Oak - An Incident
WHEN Farmer Oak smiled, the corners of his mouth spread till they were within an unimportant distance of his ears, his eyes were reduced to chinks, and diverging wrinkles appeared round them, extending upon his countenance like the rays in a rudimentary sketch of the rising sun.
His Christian name was Gabriel, and on working days he was a young man of sound judgment, easy motions, proper dress, and general good character. On Sundays he was a man of misty views, rather given to postponing, and hampered by his best clothes and umbrella: upon the whole, one who felt himself to occupy morally that vast middle space of Laodicean neutrality which lay between the Communion people of the parish and the drunken section, -- that is, he went to church, but yawned privately by the time the con-gegation reached the Nicene creed, and thought of what there would be for dinner when he meant to be listening to the sermon. Or, to state his character as it stood in the scale of public opinion, when his friends and critics were in tantrums, he was considered rather a bad man; when they were pleased, he was rather a good man; when they were neither, he was a man whose moral colour was a kind of pepper-and-salt mixture.
Since he lived six times as many working-days as Sundays, Oak's appearance in his old clothes was most peculiarly his own -- the mental picture formed by his neighbours in imagining him being always dressed in that way. He wore a low-crowned felt hat, spread out at the base by tight jamming upon the head for security in high winds, and a coat like Dr. Johnson's; his lower extremities being encased in ordinary leather leggings and boots emphatically large, affording to each foot a roomy apartment so constructed that any wearer might stand in a river all day long and know nothing of damp -- their maker being a conscientious man who endeavoured to compensate for any weakness in his cut by unstinted dimension and solidity.
Mr. Oak carried about him, by way of watch, what may be called a small silver clock; in other words, it was a watch as to shape and intention, and a small clock as to size. This instrument being several years older than Oak's grandfather, had the peculiarity of going either too fast or not at all. The smaller of its hands, too, occasionally slipped round on the pivot, and thus, though the minutes were told with precision, nobody could be quite certain of the hour they belonged to. The stopping peculiarity of his watch Oak remedied by thumps and shakes, and he escaped any evil consequences from the other two defects by constant comparisons with and observations of the sun and stars, and by pressing his face close to the glass of his neighbours' windows, till he could discern the hour marked by the green- faced timekeepers within. It may be mentioned that Oak's fob being difficult of access, by reason of its somewhat high situation in the waistband of his trousers (which also lay at a remote height under his waistcoat), the watch was as a necessity pulled out by throwing the body to one side, compressing the mouth and face to a mere mass of ruddy flesh on account of the exertion required, and drawing up the watch by its chain, like a bucket from a well.
But some thoughtful persons, who had seen him walking across one of his fields on a certain December morning -- sunny and exceedingly mild -- might have regarded Gabriel Oak in other aspects than these. In his face one might notice that many of the hues and curves of youth had tarried on to manhood: there even remained in his remoter crannies some relics of the boy. His height and breadth would have been sufficient to make his presence imposing, had they been exhibited with due consideration. But there is a way some men have, rural and urban alike, for which the mind is more responsible than flesh and sinew: it is a way of curtailing their dimensions by their manner of showing them. And from a quiet modesty that would have become a vestal which seemed continually to impress upon him that he had no great claim on the world's room, Oak walked unassumingly and with a faintly perceptible bend, yet distinct from a bowing of the shoulders. This may be said to be a defect in an individual if he depends for his valuation more upon his appearance than upon his capacity to wear well, which Oak did not.
He had just reached the time of life at which "young" is ceasing to be the prefix of "man" in speaking of one. He was at the brightest period of masculine growth, for his intellect and his emotions were clearly separated: he had passed the time during which the influence of youth indiscriminately mingles them in the character of impulse, and he had not yet arrived at the stage wherein they become united again, in the character of prejudice, by the influence of a wife and family. In short, he was twenty-eight, and a bachelor.
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Whoever came up with the Shedworking idea ....is pretty far from the madding crowd. It's probably a very good idea to be ....that way, far from the madding crowd. By nature, and I honestly don't know how it came to be...I've always been drawn to places where I can hide and watch the madding crowd from a safe distance. I don't like crowds. Their behaviors are poison to my soul. Maybe this is why this book touched me so closely. My motto...be brave, be different and respect others who are too.
Few Victorian classics I've had the pleasure of reading come close to this one. I had heard the title before but couldn't recall the source of that. Far from the Madding Crowd ....I grabbed it and made a B-line for the cashier. I was not to be disappointed. In one way or another, each of us can see a reflection of our own lives in that of Gabriel....
Description of Farmer Oak - An Incident
WHEN Farmer Oak smiled, the corners of his mouth spread till they were within an unimportant distance of his ears, his eyes were reduced to chinks, and diverging wrinkles appeared round them, extending upon his countenance like the rays in a rudimentary sketch of the rising sun.
His Christian name was Gabriel, and on working days he was a young man of sound judgment, easy motions, proper dress, and general good character. On Sundays he was a man of misty views, rather given to postponing, and hampered by his best clothes and umbrella: upon the whole, one who felt himself to occupy morally that vast middle space of Laodicean neutrality which lay between the Communion people of the parish and the drunken section, -- that is, he went to church, but yawned privately by the time the con-gegation reached the Nicene creed, and thought of what there would be for dinner when he meant to be listening to the sermon. Or, to state his character as it stood in the scale of public opinion, when his friends and critics were in tantrums, he was considered rather a bad man; when they were pleased, he was rather a good man; when they were neither, he was a man whose moral colour was a kind of pepper-and-salt mixture.
Since he lived six times as many working-days as Sundays, Oak's appearance in his old clothes was most peculiarly his own -- the mental picture formed by his neighbours in imagining him being always dressed in that way. He wore a low-crowned felt hat, spread out at the base by tight jamming upon the head for security in high winds, and a coat like Dr. Johnson's; his lower extremities being encased in ordinary leather leggings and boots emphatically large, affording to each foot a roomy apartment so constructed that any wearer might stand in a river all day long and know nothing of damp -- their maker being a conscientious man who endeavoured to compensate for any weakness in his cut by unstinted dimension and solidity.
Mr. Oak carried about him, by way of watch, what may be called a small silver clock; in other words, it was a watch as to shape and intention, and a small clock as to size. This instrument being several years older than Oak's grandfather, had the peculiarity of going either too fast or not at all. The smaller of its hands, too, occasionally slipped round on the pivot, and thus, though the minutes were told with precision, nobody could be quite certain of the hour they belonged to. The stopping peculiarity of his watch Oak remedied by thumps and shakes, and he escaped any evil consequences from the other two defects by constant comparisons with and observations of the sun and stars, and by pressing his face close to the glass of his neighbours' windows, till he could discern the hour marked by the green- faced timekeepers within. It may be mentioned that Oak's fob being difficult of access, by reason of its somewhat high situation in the waistband of his trousers (which also lay at a remote height under his waistcoat), the watch was as a necessity pulled out by throwing the body to one side, compressing the mouth and face to a mere mass of ruddy flesh on account of the exertion required, and drawing up the watch by its chain, like a bucket from a well.
But some thoughtful persons, who had seen him walking across one of his fields on a certain December morning -- sunny and exceedingly mild -- might have regarded Gabriel Oak in other aspects than these. In his face one might notice that many of the hues and curves of youth had tarried on to manhood: there even remained in his remoter crannies some relics of the boy. His height and breadth would have been sufficient to make his presence imposing, had they been exhibited with due consideration. But there is a way some men have, rural and urban alike, for which the mind is more responsible than flesh and sinew: it is a way of curtailing their dimensions by their manner of showing them. And from a quiet modesty that would have become a vestal which seemed continually to impress upon him that he had no great claim on the world's room, Oak walked unassumingly and with a faintly perceptible bend, yet distinct from a bowing of the shoulders. This may be said to be a defect in an individual if he depends for his valuation more upon his appearance than upon his capacity to wear well, which Oak did not.
He had just reached the time of life at which "young" is ceasing to be the prefix of "man" in speaking of one. He was at the brightest period of masculine growth, for his intellect and his emotions were clearly separated: he had passed the time during which the influence of youth indiscriminately mingles them in the character of impulse, and he had not yet arrived at the stage wherein they become united again, in the character of prejudice, by the influence of a wife and family. In short, he was twenty-eight, and a bachelor.
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Whoever came up with the Shedworking idea ....is pretty far from the madding crowd. It's probably a very good idea to be ....that way, far from the madding crowd. By nature, and I honestly don't know how it came to be...I've always been drawn to places where I can hide and watch the madding crowd from a safe distance. I don't like crowds. Their behaviors are poison to my soul. Maybe this is why this book touched me so closely. My motto...be brave, be different and respect others who are too.
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Replies to This Discussion
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Permalink Reply by curt on
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The madding crowd in the state of Hessia, Germany cast their votes yesterday and the same madding crowd is now perplexed with the outcome. As I predicted more than two years ago, die Linke made the 5% necessary to gain seats in Hessia's parliament and as predicted, the other four political parties are left without a real majority and as predicted, none are willing to build a coalition with die Linke.
In Hessia, die Linke reaped 5.1%. In Niedersachsen, 7.x%. This is the trend. More states to follow and die Linke have yet to formulate what I would call a platform worth fighting for. They can do it but what they've done so far, is not very impressive.
Wiki explains die Linke in English
What is to come once the party actually does get their shit together? What can we expect when more people get involved and die Linke move away from their bad rep as a morphed SED / PDS to a real social democratic party ?
The madding crowd is now forced to take die Linke serious.
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more along the same line........
The biggest winner of the two state polls was the radical leftist, ...
The Hesse election has led to a stalemate between the two big parti...
They just can't get it across their lips : The big winners in yesterday's elections are die Linke !
If only now the SPD could get back on track with the social democracy they began with.......and work with the Left to take the country back in the direction of a social democracy. I'm not holding my breath ...and I'm not allowed to vote, after 28 years of paying taxes here.
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Permalink Reply by waldopaper on
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Damn politics. What a distraction. I reached Gabriel's state at the age of 38... also a bachelor... over 20 years ago. Now I am engaging the Paulitos... and learning more than I bargained for. All of which is a distraction from the next post-collapse idea... a scalable home-built wood-gassification stove... that can be a modular part of an indoor-outdoor oven (depending on the weather)... made of local clay-brick.
Beyond that is the recipe for the 3,000 calorie loaf of bread... or something of similar size that will sustain one person for 1-7 days... with a long shelf life. Food design is totally out of my knowledge box... but thinking it should be made with as many locally-available materials as possible. Potatoes maybe... parsnips... tubers and squash... corn, beans, pumpkins and potatoes. The oven becomes one wall... or part of one wall... of the shelter (there is a fireproof type of grancrete). The madding crowd(s) will break into smaller groups along faults of "belief-systems" which will evolve and endure depending on the ability to help its hosts post-collapse.
Is this what is happening in Hesse... where the "political process" appears to be somewhat functional? Ideas and words are important... but methinks they will take a back seat... OR become more flammable... post-collapse. The "glue" that holds the collective together appears to be polarizing into either "socialism" or "feudalism." The Paulitos seem to be pushing feudalism... but are totally unaware that they are doing so. The rbc "railroad" may hold the possibility of moving between socialistic and feudalistic local "pockets" unless these two mind-frames clash violently post collapse... and I see no reason now why they would... unless it's a struggle between different "collectives" for resources. PTAK... "post-collapse hardtack" could be a mode of exchange, ie.. "money," but that's far over the event horizon.
Back to the madding crowd...
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The wall fell down. The east went west. The SED became the PDS and the left wing of the SPD became the WASG. The WASG and the PDS recently merged. Turmoil, but ....east meets west. A common party for your leftists in the east and in the west. Real re-unification work at work here. The MLPD doesn't stand a chance, neither does the DKP, formerly known as (before Hitler) the KPD. That was more or less my base back when I was an active member of the IGM. Never joined, just visited and exchanged ideas.
They've taken this land so far to the right, there's just enough room for a sheet of paper to fit between the CDU (Hesse's Roland Koch e.g.) and the NPD.....the neo version of the NSDAP or in other terms.....the Nazis.
The White Rose. Remember ?
That's where I am, and that's why I'm still hoping, writing, talking, opinienating. It's that bad. The SPD, born out of the bowels of the Steel workers unions....the Bollwerk of modern socialism...has been infiltrated. Our only hope of ever returning to what I personally came to love, the reason I stayed on here, the social democracy, is to fight to move the SPD back to where it once was. And if that cannot be achieved, we'll all go left.
I'm very passionate about this and it does differ from my involvement and convictions in Betracht auf US Politik. And yes, I do seriously consider myself a socialist. The last thing I want is a lot of money. An equal distribution of monies would be an improvement, dontcha think ? I know this sounds fremd to US ears. It's not that fremd here.....das Folk can still remember better years....and more worse....yet.
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En addendum, in the spirit of keeping warm, dry, hydrated, fed, clean and happy, an ex colleague, a software engineer from Kemnitz (his choice descriptor for his home town, not mine) once said, as we reflected on times past and past times, "I had my job, my bicycle, a place to stay and enough to eat, what more can a man want?" And he really meant it. It wasn't as if he was just saying that and secretly loving every minute of his new life and career in the west, he missed the simplicity of it all. He was just as far from the madding crowd as I am.
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"I had my job, my bicycle, a place to stay and enough to eat, what more can a man want?" >>
as Gasan in the Koan remarked... "Whoever said that is not far from Buddhahood!"
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Shunned in Germany, Far-Left Gets Support Elsewhere in Europe
President Bush a "terrorist" - Oskar Lafontaine
US Demands More German Troops at Taliban Front
"not up for discussion" ....for how long ?
Lest we forget.....
And all of this is very distracting, not very promising. Did I miss the superbowl again ? A fine fan I've turned out to be. A Shephard has asked me if I would help him. I really don't think so, not now but I have played with the thought many a time ...even before we met last week. Aint it funny ? I had really been thinking about approaching a Shephard to ask if I could help, but I never did. Last friday night, one asked me if I could help. I don't know if you can call him a Shephard. He has goats. What's the correct term for someone with goats ? He asked me if I could at least help him with the slaughtering and I said I could. Actually getting up off the couch to go do it is something else but it would be a move in the right direction => food on the table willing and able to live off the land if need be. I dunno. Dude said he was a boxer back when. Had a pass for most all Kaserne gates in the area and was well known to most all MPs. They've just about all left out. Not many around any more. Lots of stories to be told, not many who want to hear them. Today's youth couldn't care less. How can we be truthful with them and not take away their hope is beyond me.
Greener Pastures
Instead of going into the Traditional Mongolian Method of Goat Slaughtering........videos........
Is the U.S. Failing in Afghanistan?
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Permalink Reply by pan on
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What I Saw, and Ate, at the Pig “Sacrifice”
The true story of a bloody day in Port Orchard.
By Jonathan Kauffman
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This is the Church of Dorothy Day and Liberation Theology.
Maybe the town will have increased tourism. Little boutiques selling Linda Blair dolls that puke green gel and whose heads spin when you pull the string. Carl Orff will be named the town's official composer.....
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