I went to the library this afternoon and took my old light-blue copy of Gottfried Benn poems (Statische Gedichte, or Static Poems) along both for reading and as a translation exercise. The difficulty translating Benn's later poems has to do with two elements: a formal (rhyme and meter) structure that one struggles to replicate and lexical choices so precise as to make finding English equivalents that sound right a real chore.
J&C are back in town, as evidenced by a phone call last evening. I thought I might see C at the library, but didn't.
Leaving the library around 4:45 was disconcerting because it was not yet dark ... I have grown accustomed to early darkness, and the mere dusk, the mere twilight was uncanny. The days are getting longer, so to speak.
Although it is Friday, it is not yet Sci-Fi Friday ... the trio of Battlestar Galactica, Stargate SG-1 and Stargate Atlantis are not yet showing back-to-back(-to-back) new episodes. It was Fish Fry Friday, but I failed to stop by Memorial Union for any fish.
Instead after the library I headed for Fair Trade and their fritters. The barista working today has only been there a few months and is not quite as competent, shall we say, as the usual guy who knows exactly what I want as soon as I step through the door and approach the counter. She gave me a cherry rather than cranberry fritter ... no great crime, but telling them apart is not that difficult.
Those fritters are guilty pleasures. I would gladly make them at home (if I had a recipe that matched the Fair Trade ones closely enough), but I think it would require more hot-oil-frying than I want to deal with.
—January 5 2007