[3440] in Central_America
New quotes for Thu Jun 20
daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (Initializer.SysDaemon)
Thu Jun 20 01:32:26 1991
Date: Thu, 20 Jun 91 01:31:57 EDT
From: root@charon.MIT.EDU (Initializer.SysDaemon)
To: ca-mtg@bloom-beacon.mit.edu
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bjaspan (Barr3y Jaspan):
D Bm E A D
D Bm E A
D D7 G E
D Bm E A D
Rhu wins a cookie.
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carla (Carla Jean Fermann):
Reading People Magazine in the Humanities Library
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cctee (Cynthia C Tee):
"The time you enjoyed wasting is not wasted time."
-- Bertrand Russell
"If you could only love enough, you would be the happiest being in
the world."
-- Emmet Fox
HI! you can find me at: tee@slcs.slb.com (until mid-Dec. '91)
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cecily (LCTheta):
THE LOVE SONG OF J. ALFRED PRUFROCK
---T.S. Eliot
Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question . . .
Oh, do not ask, 'What is it?'
Let us go and make our visit.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-
panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-
panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.
And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet that faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, 'Do I dare?' and, 'Do I dare?'
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair---
[They will say: 'How his hair is growing thin!']
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin---
[They will say: 'But how his arms and legs are thin!']
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
For I have known them all already, known them all---
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?
And I have known the eyes already, known them all---
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?
And I have known them all already, known them all---
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?...
I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floor of silent seas.
. . . . .
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep . . . tired . . . or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald]
brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet---and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and
snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.
And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it towards some overwhelming question,
To say: 'I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all'---
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: 'That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.'
And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled
streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that
trail along the floor---
And this, and so much more?---
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns
on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
'That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.'
. . . . .
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous---
Almost, at times, the Fool.
I grow old . . . I grow old . . .
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the
beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing back the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
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chiharu (Chiharu Osawa):
Jun 20 15:00 basketball
Jun 21 14:00 Japanese Reading TA
Jun 22 Pick up Prof.Fukuda at Logan
Jun 24-27 PESC (MIT)
Jun 25 Prof.Hori's visit to MIT
Jun 26-28 ACC (Park Plaza Hotel, Boston)
Jul 1 out of town
Jul 7 out of town
Jul 14-24 out of town
Jul 25 11:00 Road Test
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cuomo (Kevin M Cuomo):
{From system: This user's .plan file is not world readable}
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dhbernst (David H Bernstein):
Last login:
Thu Jun 20 00:52:44 EDT 1991
Teaching: 1.973 -- Geographic Information Systems for Transportation
Planners and Engineers
M,W 4:30 - 6:00 Room 1-242
Research: Congestion Reduction Policies
Transportation and Land-Use Interactions
Visualization and Data Management in Transportation
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dhlevy (Mr. Pinhead):
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gerbs (Gerbs(James) Bauer):
{From system: This user's .plan file is not world readable}
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hogarty (Sean Hogarty):
{From system: This user's .plan file is not world readable}
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jtkohl (John T Kohl):
The end of Project Athena's funding from DEC and IBM is rapidly
approaching, and I too must say farewell to E40. I will be packing up
stuff on 18th June and moving over to a temporary office at Digital's
CBM facility in 1 Kendall Square [I'll also be at the Athena party at
Indian Ranch on Thursday].
This summer I'll be splitting time between the DECathena folks at CBM
and the Open Systems Group (OSG) at DEC's Nashua, NH facility. I'll be
either reading E-mail here or forwarding it to my new "home machine". I
don't know phone numbers yet, so send e-mail sometime next week if you
want to know how to phone me.
This August I will be heading out to UC Berkeley to begin studies for a
Master's degree in Computer Science (operating systems). Digital has
agreed to sponsor me to study for the degree.
I really enjoyed working with all of you here at MIT Project Athena, and
I will miss you. However, I'm also really looking forward to continuing
my education at Berkeley, and I invite you to look me up if you're ever
out there visiting.
Farewell, and good luck in your future endeavors.
John
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kjdana (Kristin J Dana):
{From system: This user's .plan file is not world readable}
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kkyang (Keelan K Yang):
Keelan K. Yang
MIT '94
Course 3: Material Science and Engineering
Mailing address: 402 Marlborough St. E-Mail: kkyang@athena.mit.edu
Boston, MA 02115
Phone: (617) 247-9662
Current involvement: * Delta Pi Fraternity - Secretary
* Undergraduate Association (UA)
UA Council - Burton House Rep.
UA Committee on Educational Policy - Vice Chair
* Class of 1994 - Class Council
Current Classes: 3.00, 3.13, 18.03, 18.06, 21.391
Classes Completed: 1.00, 3.091, 4.601, 8.01, 8.02, 15A02, 15.501, 18.01,
18.02, 24.00
Schedule: HELL!
Motto: "What the Hell?!"
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srv (Venkatesh R Saligrama):
{From system: This user's .plan file is not world readable}
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tiuzzol (Terri Iuzzolino):
"Humans are actually quite good at doing two or three things at a time,
and seem to get offended if their computer cannot do as much."
--Andrew D. Birrell
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A child's approach to finishing disliked meals:
You eat it. You glare at the food, grudgingly take a forkful, and
use your other hand to hold your nosed closed. Close your eyes. Put
the fork in your mouth. Chew the food a little. Swallow the food and
then complain to your mother that you don't like it.
"Eat it anyways, dear. It's good for you."
You look at the food menacingly. It won't go away, so you take
the fork, stab at dinner a bit, spread it out on the plate, and repeat
the process until it looks like you've finished off the mound of
unwanted vegetable. Your parents, of course, know this trick as they
tried it themselves and won't let you go until you finish a little
more of the flattened mound.
It's very simple. Millions of kids finish their vegetables this
way.
I remember doing exactly that with food I didn't like,
specifically, with soy bean soup: soy beans, black eyed peas(?), corn,
lentils, split peas (I think), corn and chick peas. My dad loved it.
My mother and I hated it. I think that's how I ate it a couple of
times: held my nose and swallowed.
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"What's the use of being grown up if you can't act childish sometimes?"
--Dr. Who (Tom Baker), Brain of Morbius
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wkchan (William K Chan):
Brookhaven National Laboratory
Department of Nuclear Energy
Radiological Sciences Division
Building 703M
Upton, L.I., NY 11973
--- End of Central America ---
