As I turned my car into the parking lot at the Height Post Office today, I noticed a sign that reads, “Customer parking only. 15 minute limit.”
|
||||
|
|
There is an expression in the Roman language, genius loci, “the spirit of a place.” It has acquired a modern, figurative sense in the realm of landscape and architecture—a characteristic atmosphere. But its meaning is rooted in a literal, supernatural sense—the guardian spirit that protects a place. I try to describe Rome to you without resorting to the clichés and hyperbole that pour from the reservoir of what I have read and heard and seen on television:
I’m so excited! My blog has been cited by Bingo News (“Complete Bingo Resource”). I’d like to thank the spider or robot responsible for this moment in the sun. I never suspected that there were resources for bingo players. Oh brave new world…! Dear Grandma, I’ll bet you thought you were never going to hear from your youngest grandson again. I wasn’t too regular about writing to you for the last decade or two of your life, so you certainly shouldn’t be surprised that you haven’t heard from me since you left us. From your vantage point, I would think it’s easy for you to see why I didn’t stay in closer contact. Not long after the last time I saw you, when we got together with Laura and Yvonne, Karl and Edith, little Karl, Linda and her kids, Jane, Dad, and all those others at your place in Middle River, my life started heading in a direction that I wasn’t ready to share with you. I hate the way that time and circumstances isolated me from you. It wasn’t that I thought you couldn’t handle the secret …more My first night at David’s house was the day we sold his coffee pot. In April 2007, I decided to sell my house so I could run around the world and play. I didn’t reach this decision lightly; it was the culmination of a lot of agonizing and soul-searching and talking with friends and coaches about what it would take to give up the old bungalow where I’d lived for 16 years and housed my business for the last eight. I asked my friend David how he’d feel about having a roommate. With his consent, I started plans to make his spare bedroom my pied-a-terre in Houston—a home base for whatever globe-trotting playboy lifestyle might come next. And I went to work on getting my house ready to sell. A client raised my hackles recently by asking me to redesign a brochure with “more of a marketing appeal.” She presented an example—a mockup of a brochure cover with a huge photo that had nothing to do with the content and a few sparse blocks of words conveying little real information. The meager text referred to “all new world-class courses” that would offer “everything you need” to meet deadlines and budgets and would give you business analysis skills to “ensure flawless execution.” It sounded like unsustainable hyperbole to me—empty, meaningless phrases—but the client’s reaction to the piece was, “This is what I mean about a fresh sexy look. If you read each category you see the language of marketing coming through.” I’ve always enjoyed learning foreign languages. Between sixth grade and graduation from college, I studied a total of 12 academic years of various languages—Spanish, French, Italian, German, Latin, and Ancient (Attic) Greek. During my high-school and college travels abroad, I eagerly absorbed a few words of several others. I can count to five in Rumanian, say “thank you” and “goodbye” in Polish, and ask “What is your telephone number?” in Dutch. A high-school friend taught me how to say “Would you like to take a shower with me?” in German, but I’ve never had occasion to use it. |
|||
|
© 2024 Incompleat Iconoclast. All rights reserved. Log in |
||||
Recent comments