"Yes, but..."

The title of this post comes from a dear, ancient professor of mine who seems, in our recent crossings on campus, to have forgotten that I ever existed. He began his seminar, a few years ago, by suggesting that the most fruitful mode of discussion--and argument--that we should aspire to would be that which acknowledged and disagreed (or perhaps transcended).

In that vein, I introduce a new feature to this blog: a link to my Amazon wishlist, handily located under the rubrick "Shameless Self-Promotion"--to your right. Yes, I hardly have a following. Yes, I post infrequently and obliquely. Yes, pleas for people to give me things works better when I know them or when I've built up enough of a web-presence so that people feel as though they know me. But it would be really cool if someone liked my Wodehouse blogging or my irresponsable translations enough to send me the Pluhar translation of the 3rd Critique. Wow, wouldn't that be cool!

Hey, you never know.

Perhaps I have finally arrived at a position where I can understand the motivations of those young men who, lounging around on the streets of Paris, shout out to female pedestrians--"he! t'es buonne! t'es chaude! viens ici... un pet't bisou, alors?" Why not? Maybe someone will turn around, like what he or she sees, and do the unthinkable of buying me a present.

And if not, I promise not to turn on you and shriek "Pute! Salope! Espece de sale conne!" That sort of thing only mixes one's message. Unless, of course, one is Baudelaire, and that is one's point.

I shoot a wishlist in the air, and where I lands, I suspect altogether too well where...