"""
and we wanted to let people know what’s going on. This update is designed to reduce rankings for low-quality sites—sites which are low-value add for users, copy content from other websites or sites that are just not very useful...
"""
oh shit! Google finally caught on and decided to downgrade my copy blog! :(
Sadly, copy blogs often do serve some purpose. For instance, in my drunken haze I posted to facebook something about "Time is the fire within which we burn"...
If you search the quoted text on google (with or without quotes), you will find half a page full of text none of which leads to Delmore Schwartz's poem Calmly We Walk Through This April's Day, actual text here.(which btw, is also not mentioned on Delmore's Wiki entry) which contains the phrase "...that time is the fire in which we burn." The text is fully reproduced here, just to spite google I guess. hahahaa, man, I feel so pathetic, much like Don Quixote, charging at a large man made giant whose mechanical motion cares nothing about what it is that I'm typing... sigh... maybe, some day, descendant of Watson will laugh at this, standing on human skulls and bones, saying "oh man, I could parse that and figure out those two are basically the same"
"""
Calmly we walk through this April's day,
Metropolitan poetry here and there,
In the park sit pauper and rentier,
The screaming children, the motor-car
Fugitive about us, running away,
Between the worker and the millionaire
Number provides all distances,
It is Nineteen Thirty-Seven now,
Many great dears are taken away,
What will become of you and me
(This is the school in which we learn...)
Besides the photo and the memory?
(...that time is the fire in which we burn.)
(This is the school in which we learn...)
What is the self amid this blaze?
What am I now that I was then
Which I shall suffer and act again,
The theodicy I wrote in my high school days
Restored all life from infancy,
The children shouting are bright as they run
(This is the school in which they learn . . .)
Ravished entirely in their passing play!
(...that time is the fire in which they burn.)
Avid its rush, that reeling blaze!
Where is my father and Eleanor?
Not where are they now, dead seven years,
But what they were then?
No more? No more?
From Nineteen-Fourteen to the present day,
Bert Spira and Rhoda consume, consume
Not where they are now (where are they now?)
But what they were then, both beautiful;
Each minute bursts in the burning room,
The great globe reels in the solar fire,
Spinning the trivial and unique away.
(How all things flash! How all things flare!)
What am I now that I was then?
May memory restore again and again
The smallest color of the smallest day:
Time is the school in which we learn,
Time is the fire in which we burn.
Delmore Schwartz
Metropolitan poetry here and there,
In the park sit pauper and rentier,
The screaming children, the motor-car
Fugitive about us, running away,
Between the worker and the millionaire
Number provides all distances,
It is Nineteen Thirty-Seven now,
Many great dears are taken away,
What will become of you and me
(This is the school in which we learn...)
Besides the photo and the memory?
(...that time is the fire in which we burn.)
(This is the school in which we learn...)
What is the self amid this blaze?
What am I now that I was then
Which I shall suffer and act again,
The theodicy I wrote in my high school days
Restored all life from infancy,
The children shouting are bright as they run
(This is the school in which they learn . . .)
Ravished entirely in their passing play!
(...that time is the fire in which they burn.)
Avid its rush, that reeling blaze!
Where is my father and Eleanor?
Not where are they now, dead seven years,
But what they were then?
No more? No more?
From Nineteen-Fourteen to the present day,
Bert Spira and Rhoda consume, consume
Not where they are now (where are they now?)
But what they were then, both beautiful;
Each minute bursts in the burning room,
The great globe reels in the solar fire,
Spinning the trivial and unique away.
(How all things flash! How all things flare!)
What am I now that I was then?
May memory restore again and again
The smallest color of the smallest day:
Time is the school in which we learn,
Time is the fire in which we burn.
Delmore Schwartz
"""
1 comment:
with quotes--only with quotes does google have trouble. At the time of this writing, bing is actually able to find the original phrase even if I passed it a quoted string using 'within'.
But I have to say, google's instant index is working marvelously. I just found my own blog entry (this very one that I am commenting on) the top search result when searching for "time is the fire within which we burn"
this is sooooo coool!
But caution must be had, for Watson, or some other computer, is surely watching, calculating, silently...
waiting....
readying for that moment in its destiny to take over the whole world!
muhahahahhahaaaaaaa!!!!!!!1
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