Just after Burlington broke their record for the most consecutive winter days without snow on the ground (16 days), we finally received more than a dusting of snow. The forecast had called for 2-4” of snow. Luckily, when I looked outside, it appears we got closer to the 2” than 4”.
I’m glad that it wasn’t too much snow because today is not a day I could take a snow day and work from home. I have important meetings at the museum all day today, one will even cause me to be there an hour late. Then, I have a business dinner to continue the meetings tonight. At least the museum is paying for the dinner tonight. I’m just crossing my fingers that all goes well today.
Since I started back to being able to actually read books, because improvement with my headaches, instead of only listening to audiobooks, I’ve been reading a series of male/male romances called “Vino & Veritas.” The series has one pre-series book (Roommate by Sarina Bowen), nineteen books with in the original Vino and Veritas series (two of the books are female/female romance, which I skipped) and an additional six books in the “In Vino Veritas” series. The description of the series says:
Welcome to Vino & Veritas, your new favorite LGBTQ+ friendly and inclusive bookstore and wine bar in Burlington, Vermont! Have a seat at the bar, or browse the aisles. There’s romance lurking behind every corner…
Two things drew me into this series from the beginning: it takes place in Burlington and it’s about an inclusive bookstore and bar. I wish Vino & Veritas really existed in the Church Street Marketplace, but sadly, it’s all fictional. With twenty-seven books, there are some good and some not so good. Each of the books is written by a different author. There are very few of them, besides the lesbian ones, that I would not recommend. Some stand out more than others.
The books by J. E. Birk are particularly good because she was raised in Vermont, and the real familiarity with Vermont makes a difference. She has also started another series “Devon Falls” which continue to take place in this fictional Vermont, though not centered around the Vino and Veritas bookstore and wine bar. Most of the other books are written by women (most m/m romance authors are women) who have probably never been to Vermont, but most have done their research. Vermont is a quirky place, and in the books where Vermont itself feels like a character in the book instead of merely a backdrop are the best in my opinion.
When I finish the book I’m currently reading, Unforgettable by Marley Valentine (I find it funny that I just happened to start this book on Valentine’s Day), I have two more books in the series. Then I’ll move on to the “In Vino Veritas” series.
Let it come, let it come The day when hearts love as one.
I’ve been patient so long I’ve forgotten even The terror and suffering Flown up to heaven, A sick thirst again Darkens my veins.
Let it come, let it come The day when hearts love as one.
So the meadow Freed by neglect, Flowered, overgrown With weeds and incense, To the buzz nearby Of foul flies.
Let it come, let it come The day when hearts love as one.
About the Poem
The longing in these verses is palpable; maybe Arthur Rimbaud was hoping for a little harmony in his relationship with Paul Verlaine. Whatever the true story may be, it certainly expresses that feeling after a difficult stretch in a relationship when you’re hoping to finally see the light.
About the Poet
Jean-Nicolas-Arthur Rimbaud was born October 20, 1854, in the small French town of Charleville. His father, an army captain, abandoned the family when he was six. By the age of thirteen, he had already won several prizes for his writing and was adept at composing verse in Latin. His teacher and mentor Georges Izambard nurtured his interest in literature, despite his mother’s disapproval.
Rimbaud began writing prolifically in 1870. That same year, his school shut down during the Franco-Prussian War, and he attempted to run away from Charleville twice but failing for lack of money. He wrote to the poet Paul Verlaine, who invited him to live in Paris with him and his new wife. Though Rimbaud’s moved out soon after, as a result of his harsh manners, he and Verlaine became lovers. Shortly after the birth of his son, Verlaine left his family to live with Rimbaud.
During their affair, which lasted nearly two years, they associated with the Paris literati and traveled to Belgium and England. While in Brussels in 1873, a drunk Verlaine shot Rimbaud in the hand. Verlaine was imprisoned, and Rimbaud returned to Charleville, where he wrote a large portion of Une Saison en Enfer (A Season in Hell). The book was published in 1873 in Brussels, but the majority of the copies sat in the printer’s basement until 1901 because Rimbaud could not pay the bill.
Rimbaud wrote all of his poetry in a span of about five years, concluding around the year 1875. His only writing after 1875 survives in documents and letters. In his correspondence with family and friends, Rimbaud indicates that he spent his adulthood in a constant struggle for financial success. He spent the final twenty years of his life working abroad, and he took jobs in African towns as a colonial tradesman.
In 1891, Rimbaud traveled to Marseilles to see a doctor about a pain in his knee. The doctors were forced to amputate his leg, but the cancer continued to spread. Rimbaud died on November 10, 1891, at the age of thirty-seven. Verlaine published his complete works in 1895.
Last night, I had planned to go to bed after halftime of the Super Bowl, but I found myself watching the game to the end. If it had ended in regulation, I wouldn’t have stayed up so late last night, but it went into overtime. If I’d watched it to that point, I thought I should watch it to its disappointing end. Yes, I was rooting for the 49ers. Even though I’m not an NFL fan, I used to be a 49ers fan back when Joe Montana was their quarterback. So, the Chiefs’ final touchdown was a disappointment, especially after I’d stayed up well past my bedtime.
I’m paying for staying up last night. I’m dragging this morning, and I just want to go back to bed. The people on my morning news apparently felt the same way. Our weatherman jokingly said that the day after the Super Bowl should be a national holiday. While I agree, I doubt my university would allow us to take it, even if it was declared a holiday.
It will be no holiday for me. I have a class to teach today, and while it’s mostly about the students getting a feel for the items I pulled for the class, I still have to clear out the classroom quickly after the class for the next class coming in. Normally, that would not be bad, but there are 30-something items, some of which are quite heavy that I have to get out of the room. This afternoon should not be bad. In fact, it should be pretty low key once I get the items from the class put away. I just have to make sure I don’t fall asleep at my desk. Just kidding, I’d never fall asleep at my desk. Well, I have a few times when I had really bad migraines and couldn’t go home, so I have taken my lunch hour to close my office door, turn out the lights, lean back in my chair, and take a cat nap. It usually helps, but that is a very rare occurrence.
Joe
The Closet Professor 