But it could also be an extremely clever double-entendre that uses the metaphor of "changing teams" to describe switching from one sex to another in choice of sexual partners. I love how PSB lyrics are rich enough that you can continue to make new discoveries long after you've first heard them!
All Rights Reserved. Brief quotations and small, low-resolution images are used for identification and critical commentary, thereby constituting Fair Use under U. I had always taken the couplet that opens the second verse— You drift into the strangest dreams Of youthful follies and changing teams —specifically the "changing teams" part—as simply referring to the homoerotic environment of the sports locker room. Annotations As noted above, the song's title is borrowed from that of an novel by the British author Anthony Trollope Of course, it also plays with the stereotype that "straight" guys like rock music whereas gay guys like dance music.
Like many if not most stereotypes, it's utterly false as a sweeping generalization, yet it contains enough truth to have given rise to the stereotype in the first place. The "Can You Forgive Her? One of my site visitors, however, has noted its wealth of, shall we say, Freudian images, complete with phallic cone-hats and spikes aplenty.http://leakdown.com/557.php
Lo!: A Hypertext Edition of Charles Hoy Fort's Book
Fort has this one satisfaction, if he cares to enjoy it, that probably no other book had such a select group of readers; and few books have ever stirred their limited audiences to such a degree. The readers were mostly writers. It was that kind of book. Four or five friends of mine took it to their bosoms as a source book, a mine of plots, a text for the study of startling and amazing utterance.
Believe it or not, books now current, of very recent date, owe Charles Fort a tremendous but unacknowledged debt. Wild men, the stormy souls who admitted no masters and no rules, rushed to pay homage to Charles Fort when his first book appeared. The correspondents of Garrett P.
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Serviss continued to correspond with Garrett P. The world went on as usual. But -- for the first time in written history -- the half conscious reading public had the opportunity, if it cared to take it, to read of ten thousand occurrences on this earth which the Great God Science had failed to explain, had refused to explain or had explained with gross imperfections, from a thoughtful standard.
The review has become almost classic.
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It appeared before the publication of Erik Dorn, Hecht's first novel. I am the first disciple of Charles Fort. He has made a terrible onslaught upon the accumulated lunacy of fifty centuries. The onslaught will perish. The lunacy will survive, intrenching itself behind the derisive laughter of all good citizens Whatever the purpose of Charles Fort, he has delighted me beyond all men who have written books in this world.
Mountebank or Messiah, it matters not. Henceforth I am a Fortean.
Can You Forgive Her: (Annotated)
If it has pleased Charles Fort to perpetuate a Gargantuan jest upon unsuspecting readers, all the better. If he has in all seriousness heralded forth the innermost truths of his soul, well and good.
I offer him this testament. I believe. It is a little difficult to find in the book just what Ben Hecht believed. Fort was extremely careful to offer no theories or hypotheses of his own to supplant those his data assailed. None, that is, which he cared to develop dogmatically.
Books that Define Forgiveness
But regardless of the absence of anything to believe, I was converted too. I "believed" -- anything Charles Fort wished me to. Has science by a process of maniacal exclusion of telltale data, of telltale phenomena, foisted an algebraic Mother Goose upon the world in the name of astronomy?
But this prediction has not come noticeably true.
Can You Forgive Her (Annotated)
So far as I can observe nothing Mr. Fort has said has had the slightest effect upon dogmatic science. The "accumulated lunacy of fifty centuries," the "algebraic Mother Goose" remain ascendant. All of this was more than eleven years ago. I tried to learn once, what H.
Mencken had said of The Book of the Damned. He was going around busting things. One would think there would be some affinity. I could not learn. Now, Mr.
Fort tells me that he called it "poppycock" or something similar. Upon analysis that is understandable. Mencken, like Voltaire, had to "believe" in science and its pronouncements to carry on against religion. It is incomprehensible to him that they may both be products of the same imbecilic urge to worship what is not readily explainable. In , Liveright published a second volume of "pallid data," New Lands, arranged by Charles Fort from his enormous collection of material and embellished in his individual, sulphurous and vitriolic style.
Booth Tarkington wrote an introduction to this book. He, too, "believed" -- to this extent:. I turned back to the beginning and read this vigorous and astonishing book straight through, and then re-read it for the pleasure it gave me in the way of its writing and in the substance of what it told. Charles Fort. For he deals in nightmare, not on the planetary, but on the constellation scale, and the imagination of one who staggers along after him is frequently left gasping and flaccid. This book was a further digest of newspaper and magazine references to the inexplicable -- usually accompanied with scientists' "explanations".
As the title suggested, lands -- not planets -- in the sky, were becoming thinkable. It is Charles Fort's way to confine his thinking to the thinkable, an altogether too obvious method for science to bother with. It is this nasty habit which separates Mr. Fort from quacks and cranks, doctors and professors and all other mystics. It is this reprehensible practice and his demonic skill at overturning all that is pompous, smug and satisfied with the most surprising of phrases that endear his books to other men cursed with logical or -- as he would prefer it stated -- quasi-logical minds.
In I wrote to Charles Fort, submitting some data I had come upon. We have corresponded sporadically ever since, until he returned to the United States recently. My first letter found him "searching the British Museum Library for more data.
For at least twenty-six years he has been accumulating, weighing, sifting, recording and arranging data. Who cares? Do you?