Portal:Literature

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The Litterature Portalle
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As the generally accepted definition of literature today hugs folktales to its warm bosom, we might well conclude that literature began with one frightened caveman grunting (see language) his fears to his fellows by firelight. This, however, would be wrong. Scurrying, short and bitter academics in dank bare cells have clinically proven that 'literature' is caused by writing down things which never happened and which afflict the reader with acute boredom , in some cases literally boring the victim to death.

Today, the study of literature remains a major academic discipline at nearly every educational institution around the world, often being the most heavily required class for graduation. This is because academics have declared that finding themes (which the author totally intended to put in the work) is far more important than learning first aid, basic home and auto repair, or how to do your taxes. However, there is one major benefit to the study of literature: without it, as many as half of the jokes in your favorite TV shows would fly right over your head. (See more...)

Featur'd Article
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Melville's Encyclopædia of Whales and Whaling (Latin for "Melville's Encyclopaedia of Whales and Whaling") is an English-language encyclopaedia written by the American Herman Melville. First published in 1851 in London, the reference work is viewed as having the definitive word on all things related to whales and the whaling industry.

Moby-Dick, the name of a whale sometimes prominent in the contents of Melville's Encyclopædia, has traditionally been an alternate title.

Several events in or during Melville's life influenced him to write a work on natural history, and in particular on whales and whaling. For instance, after a career largely spent on school-teaching, he spent 18 months on a voyage that he later said began his life. This was on the whaling ship Acushnet, which he called "my Yale College and my Harvard", presumably because they made him just as sick as did a sea voyage. (See more...)

Featur'd Image
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I am a coal-truck / by a broken heart / I have no sound / the sound of my heart / I am not.
Image by Cédric Spatiotemprel
To-dayes Featur'd Poëm
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Such woe, my bladder filled right to the brim
If but perchance I sought to take a leak
Yet now my pantaloons now stainèd swim
In urine which now dribbles down my feet!
If only to the loo I'd gone posthaste,
Such musings are the act of lesser men;
My fav'rite pair of leggings would not waste,
But truth be told, I'll piss my pants again.
I never learned to listen to 'ol Blad
My colon wretches yet I never poo
Now brown and yellow mix with tidings glad,
Instead of me relaxing on the loo.
Now no fair maid could ever risk a glance
They run away because I shit my pants!

(See more...)
Select'd Biographie
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Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. (/ˈvɒnɨɡət/; November 11, 1922 – April 11, 2007), is no longer amongst the living, as they say. He is kaput.

So it goes.

When I was a young man, Kurt Vonnegut taught me to love life. The way he taught me to love life was to be impolite about everyone and everything. Now I am an old fart and I am paid to be impolite, but my impoliteness never seems as profound, never seems as graceful as the impoliteness of Kurt Vonnegut. I still remember the lessons Kurt taught me. He taught me that humanity was in great danger and we were all hurtling out of control on a fractured planet that was dying fast. The only way we could correct the venality and stupidity and vindictiveness and barbarity of our fellow man was by exposing it to the light of day. I sure miss Kurt Vonnegut. (See more...)

To-dayes Featur'd Newes
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BOSTON, Massachusetts – Pushed up against a far corner of the wall and beneath a shelf of dusty books in the living area of a humble little one-bedroom apartment in Back Bay sits an old maple desk. Sunlight from a window casts upon it, illuminating dancing little specks of dust which settle upon its varnished surface like noble drops of morning dew. Posters of impressionist paintings line the walls above, peeling, poetically.

"You like this?" says the owner of the desk. "It's an antique. From the 19th century. I find old things rather inspiring. Makes me think about the sorts of people who once used them and all the stories their lives once told."

Alan McPherson, amateur poet and curator for a local Tupperware museum, spends almost nine hours a day here at this desk, thinking, dreaming, and doodling in his various journals, stopping only to eat and use the restroom. (See more...)

To-dayes Wilde Saying
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