Word: fogged
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...watch as the provincial "punks" snicker, scoff and snort about whichever bowl Penn has "bullshat its way into this year," and about whichever regional favorite of theirs could "boot the Nits out of the Top Fifty." After allowing enough time for the rhetoric to billow up and fog the windows over completely, the men call, silently, for bet-backed talk or a little silence from the visitors. The bowl stakes, as well as the gas bill, are reckoned before the students hurry out into the night. The low drone of conversation starts up again, undisturbed until the next carload...
Shortly after dawn last Wednesday, a Greek government police car sliced through the thick fog and stopped in front of the luxurious seaside villa of George Papadopoulos. Dictator of Greece for 6½ years and leader of the 1967 colonels' coup, Papadopoulos had been overthrown in the generals' coup last November, and three weeks ago, he was placed under house arrest by the civilian regime of Premier Constantine Caramanlis. Nonetheless, Papadopoulos had planned to run for Parliament in elections later this month, and there were rumors that his political ambitions went much further. To the policeman who knocked...
...think that Auden was reduced to calling Hegel silly and could think of no better way to describe Mozart than "a genius." Sometimes, reading Thank You, Fog, you wonder if Auden isn't parodying himself and his early poetry, from which he grew to feel so remote that he revised many of the most successful passages and even excised some of his most famous poems from new editions. While he once kept light and serious verse considerably apart, in Thank You, Fog he mixes them with such a dead-pan expression that he is rarely very serious or very witty...
Auden was always more interested in experimenting with syntax than with things like meter and stanza and he was content to pour his unusual grammar into the molds of sonnet, quatrain and blank verse. His chief experiments in Thank You, Fog are with verbs. Poets who write in English, he tells us in one of his "Shorts," "can very easily turn nouns, if we wish, into verbs." He proceeds to do so with gusto, not only to nouns but almost every unit of syntax he can get his hands on. Some examples from a single new poem, "Archeology:" "vacancied long...
...emotion instead of ideas--it seems that, after a certain point in his life, Auden became happy. As he explains in "Lullaby," he was "released at last/From lust for other bodies,/Rational and reconciled." Some poets can write under these circumstances; Auden apparently could not. Auden wrote Thank You, Fog after the long exiles of his life--in Weimar Germany, Iceland, and New York--had ended and he was invited back to Oxford. As a long-time expatriate and as a homosexual, Auden could never have been Poet Laureate. Yet, by the end of his life, he would have been...