I like 'b', obviously

(from http://tradicionclasica.blogspot.com/2006/01/expression-aprs-moi-le-dluge-and-its.html)

The Expression “Après moi le déluge”, and Its Classical Antecedents

[Versión de esta anotación en español: aquí]

The phrase “Après moi, le déluge” (“After me, the deluge") is attributed to the King of France Louis XV (1710-1774):

According to another interpretation, the phrase may have been coined not by the king himself, but by his most famous lover, Madame de Pompadour (1721-1764):

In any case, the phrase had a certain prophetic quality, if we interpret it post eventum as alluding to the breaking out of the French Revolution (1789-1799), which took place fifteen years after the king’s death and which cost the life of his grandson and successor, Louis XVI.

As a first approach to the saying, note that one is dealing with a nominal phrase, that is, without an explicit verb. The phrase can have two distinct, though related, meanings, according to the verb which we implicitly supply:

a) On the one hand, if we understand After me the deluge will come, the saying seems to imply, as an assertive affirmation: “After my reign, the nation will be plunged into chaos and destruction.”

b) The verb could also be understood as a subjunctive concession: After me, let the deluge come (it can come, but it makes no difference to me). In this second case, the speaker asserts that nothing that happens after his disappearance matters to him.

We will trace the classical antecedents of this famous expression, and I already anticipate that practically all of these antecedents will coincide more with notion b) than with a)...





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Apres Moi -Regina Spektor


Be afraid of the lame
They'll inherit your legs
Be afraid of the old
They'll inherit your souls
Be afraid of the cold
They'll inherit your blood
Apres moi, le deluge
After me comes the flood

I must go on standing
I'm not my own, it's not my choice



Like I said, I like 'b'.

Is this seat taken?

So you're married now.
I'd congratulate you but you haven't spoken to me or responded to any of my emails since we had a falling out 9 years ago.
I see you still do everything by the book.
It suits you.

Yes, I'm still bitter.
Everything always seemed so easy for you.
When we were leaving for college you were worried because you didn't know how to do your own laundry.
I said I'd teach you.

Secretly, I wanted to be just like you. Maybe I still do.

Congratulations, old friend.

We're All Faltering

I chalk this blog up to another failed attempt at blogging. Unfortunately I do not feel my day-to-day life is interesting enough to blog about.
If I were to blog about feelings, etc the entries would be too personal, better kept out of the public eye.

Perhaps if/when things change I'll give this another go.

If I only could make a deal with God.

Every time he gets a new girlfriend something deep inside me cringes and sobs once. Only once.
He was never mine and will never be mine. For various reasons. Primarily because I never gave him the chance to be.
That's rationale from my "right" mind.
My psychoanalytical response.
Though I am far from a complete recovery , I don't believe there is complete recovery from clinical depression, I do have the tools necessary to "fake it"
It's like knowing you should have a salad instead of a plate of grease laden cheese fries.
Which raises the question, in times like these why would anyone least of all me deny themselves a bit of comfort.
Does my "wrong" mind and its distorted views offer comfort? I think so.
28 years worth of defense and coping mechanisms, though most have been deemed unhealthy" by the professionals, served their purpose well.
Offering distraction, protection and release from the world built too bright and cruel for we sensitive types.

My right mind tells me, how could he have ever been yours if you never truly gave him the chance to be? You made the decision for him by never even allowing the possibility.

My wrong mind gives the answers I tend to prefer on days like today.
Too ugly for him.
Too fat and strange.
How would you walk down the street with him, or meet his friends without feeling so sorry for him because he has to be seen with you?

Crazy, huh? I have felt about every single one of my past boyfriends. Which explains to my right mind why I'm 28 years old and the longest relationship I've had lasted 8 months, mostly long distance.

Self hatred is something I have struggled with for as long as I can remember. Just when I think I've conquered it, there it is
quiet as cancer in remission.
It pops up *Surprise!*
And I am no longer a survivor.

No, he was never mine. He never will be. But that teeny tiny part of me that knows I'm better than this diseased thought process cringes when he falls in love.

Our Hearts Pump Dust

I am wading through a sadness I can barely describe. It's impossibly thick and clouds my senses. I am like a work horse with blinders on. Every day is like one of those dreams where you're trying to run as hard and fast as you can but you can't remember how to make your legs work.

She's had a bit of a chest cold the past week. Coughing up thick gobs of persistent phlegm I have to catch with tissues and a pale pink kidney shaped container they give you in the hospital .
Her skin is like brown crepe paper draped over protruding bones is frail, like my resolve.

I fear losing her will go on longer than any of us anticipated.
At the same time, I hope she will stay as long as she can.
How do I live without her?
She has always been my beacon of light, she is my home.

Where my mother's love always fell short, my paternal aunt and grandmother filled in the gaps tenfold.

I've had dreams lately of falling in love. I've also had a slew of nightmares about being eaten or murdered by serial killer types.
The love thing isn't likely to happen seeing as I barely get out of the house.
The crazy murderers....who knows what it means. I don't have time to look it up.

I'm taking a brake from cleaning my room. I have been trying to clean it for a year. I can't seem to get it done. I'm always exhausted. Emotionally and physically.

I fear my friends will all forget about me during this. When it's over who and what will I have?
My family, I suppose. My mother is pushing me away more than ever.
Now I let her widen the gap without resistance. I can't make her love me in a way she can't seem to bring herself to understand.

The highlight of my weekend was briefly seeing Kolleen (my beloved BffK) and her son Aidan. They shine like the sun. I'm so grateful to have them back in my life. I was so lost without them.



I have nothing left to say right now.

Cleverness Here.

My little sister started a blog and asked me to do the same. I told her I had nothing to say anymore. I guess this is a test to see if that is in fact true.
I recently turned 28 years old.
Holy shit.
When did I get so old?
Michael Jackson died yesterday.
That just makes me feel older.
The end of an era.

I don't get out much anymore and I don't know when that will change. It will change some day.
She will die.
My beloved Abuela.
The pain I feel on a daily basis for this slow and constant loss is beyond words.
I'm pretty sure that is why I have nothing left to say. This grief I have never experienced before dries up words. My sighs blow the dust away.

I think constantly, "'What can I tell my bones?'"
What, indeed?

How do I look make plans for a future that can't start until her death? It's too much like anxiously waiting for her to hurry up and die already.
God, no!

What else can I do?

I guess we'll see if I have anything left to say.