Joanna Newsom - ‘81
ARTHUR: Why’s it called that, Skip?
ARTHUR: Ottery St. Mary.
MARTIN: I’ve no idea.
ARTHUR: Do you know, Douglas?
MARTIN: Do you?
DOUGLAS: Certainly I do. You see St. Mary is the patron saint of Devon, and she, of course, was famously martyred by being eaten alive by otters.
DOUGLAS: Oh yes. Rabid otters. And so she’s always portrayed in pictures absolutely covered in otters.
ARTHUR: What, eating her?
DOUGLAS: Sometimes, in the more fire and brimstone churches. Elsewhere, the assumption is they’re all in Heaven now and have made up, so they’re just shown milling about her, nuzzling her affectionately and offering her ottery kisses and gifts of haddock.
ARTHUR: Why would the otters go to Heaven, if they ate a saint?
DOUGLAS: You’ve put your finger, Arthur, as is so often your way, on the crux of a thorny theological problem. So far, our best guess is simply that St. Peter’s got a real soft spot for otters. He looks into those whiskery faces and goes “You guys! I can’t stay mad at you” and lets them into Heaven.
Cabin Pressure 3x04 “Ottery St. Mary”
(Been working on this bit-by-bit throughout the week…in between intense bouts of homework, of course…)
Boy With Apple
by Johannes van Hoytl
Well that’s my last two pieces of academic work handed in (just as rushed and sub par as the rest of it).
I don’t feel as liberated as I should. Possibly owing to the fact that I’ve handed in no less than 4 Wetherspoon applications in the past day.
Medieval artists had no fucking idea what to make of scorpions, apparently.
Cathédrale de Notre Dame de Bayeux
Bayeux, Normandy, France
We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.