Yes, because I need more pictures of Wadi Rum sunsets

 Seriously, how many photos of Wadi Rum sunsets are buried here in this blog? The answer: not enough.

Why am I not there - on the cliff above Suleyman's camp - right now?

Perhaps That Is How the Iliad Was Written

   If in art there were the office of improver, then I would have a function in life, at least in my life a an artist.

  To begin with somebody else's creation, working only on improving it . . . Perhaps that is how the Iliad was written.

  Anything but to have to struggle with original creation!

  How I envy those who produce novels, those who begin them and write them and finish them! I can imagine novels chapter by chapter, sometimes with the actual phrases of dialogue and the narrative commentary in between, but I'm incapable of committing these dreams of writing to paper . . . . . .

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet, ch. 291

I have this sinking suspicion that someday I'll be as famous/infamous as Fernando Pessoa for never actually finishing my larger writing projects. In there are probably many reasons for this ignominious reality: 1) I teach in an interdisciplinary programs with a heavy teaching load, none of the courses in my own discipline - and the curriculum is constantly being revised, and 2) I'm a very dedicated teacher who devotes an incredible amount of time to class prep and looking after my students (I suppose this is a subset of point #1, but in other ways it's a separate point - I have several colleagues who are facing the same challenges but also don't particularly give a shit about their students or the quality of their classes), and 3) I work on two many different projects - mainly, I guess, because I find all of them interesting - which means instead of simply finishing the Epics project I'm also tinkering with Ramadan in Winter (my personal reflection on Islam) and a couple creative writing projects, and 4) I'm the laziest person in the world - at least that's what my father repeatedly told me growing up and I suspect he was/is right, and 5) I'm more than a bit of a coward in regards to my writing, and 6) I'm utterly talentless.

Maybe this is why I'm so drawn to Pessoa's The Book of Disquiet: I completely understand  why - and sympathize with - his inability to finish his projects.

Oh, and I completely swiped his reference to the Iliad for this related chapter in the Epics book.

Hustle and Bustle

 Yes, this is actually where we live.

I think this satellite picture is a little misleading: there's not that much going on in Calais.

CFL Thanksgiving Excellence 2023

 As we all know, and which none of us need to be reminded, I am Vermont's leading CFL fan. Sadly, I had somehow manage3d to make it through the season without going to even one CFL game season, which says something very bad about me. Happily, I kept up a long-standing tradition of heading up to Montreal for their own long-standing tradition: the Thanksgiving (Canadian version) Montreal Alouettes game. Over the years I've dragged many of my friends up to the Thanksgiving game, and this year I brought my excellent friend Mike Kelly (who was there for his second Thanksgiving game extravaganza). Since it was the only game of the year I splurged: great seats right on the 55 yard line.

Mike and I spent a rainy, but wonderful, day analyzing the strategy.

Three things of note: 1) great Ali McGuirk hat swag; 2) my traditional Alouettes shirt; 3) damn, that dude is ancient.

As is also well-documented - as long as we see a rouge the trip is worth it. In fact, we saw two. My soon (although apparently not too soon) to be written book on the CFL will be entitled: As Long As We See A Rouge. My friends have heard me say this so many times.

Bife com Molho de Cafe

 Seriously, who wouldn't like steak with coffee sauce? Especially when it has an egg on top? I'll tell you who couldn't resist it: Fernando Pessoa. The Brasileria, one of Pessoa's haunts, was a very lovely place to sit and write or simply watch the world go by.

E batatas fritas.

And Yet Again

 OK, so I know I post too many pictures of the cabin, but, seriously, sometimes I'm just amazed that I live here. It's not perfect, certainly, and sometimes maddening (as I prepare to load all the trash into my car and head off to the dump), but it's a sweet life. Whenever Janet and I talk about moving to Portugal we also come back to the fact that it would be very hard to leave here.

Just snapped this the other night as I was climbing out of the car after class (soon, soon, all too soon, I will be coming back in pitch darkness).

Chapel of Bones

 I mentioned that when hadn't been in Evora very long before Janet began looking for property online. It's definitely a beautiful town - as I described, oddly both medieval and also hip - but I think what pushed JP over the edge was our walk through the Chapel of Bones. You would think that a room constructed out of human bones would be creepy - and I think Janet thought it would be before she walked in - but it actually ends up feeling exactly the opposite way. I suppose that it should feel like the Catacombs in Paris, but it doesn't at all, which may be because it's above ground and airy - and because it's attached to a beautiful cathedral - or maybe because the bones were volunteered and not simply moved out of perceived necessity. No matter the answer, visiting it actually felt completely life-affirming. And apparently we'll be visiting it a lot when we live in Evora.