During one of my early seminars, there were a bunch of seminar junkies there.
Friedman stumbled in, late to the seminar as usual and reeking of cigar smoke and whiskey. He hadn't read the paper being presented, and halfway through he just gets up, walks up to the podium, socks the mother****er right in the face and takes a piss all over his lecture notes.
During my early years at Minnesota I conducted an evening enzyme seminar.
Once, at a seminar, I heard a Westernized lama say that a meditator's state of mind should be like that of a hotel doorman. A doorman lets the guests in, but he doesn't follow them up to their rooms. He lets them out, but he doesn't walk into the street with them to their next appointment. He greets them all, then lets them go on about their business. Meditation is, in its initial stages, simply accustoming oneself to letting thoughts come and go without grasping at their sleeves or putting up a velvet rope to keep them out.
It's rather like attending a university seminar where you are talking to a few gifted specialists who deliver a paper to an audience of their peers. That's one way of making music.
The whole of Paris is a vast university of Art, Literature and Music. . . it is worth anyone's while to dally here for years. Paris is a seminar, a post-graduate course in everything.
Mitt Romney looks like a guy modeling briefs on a package of underwear. . . He looks like a guy who goes to the restroom when the check comes. . . He looks like a guy who would run a seminar on condo flipping. . . He looks like he is the closer at a Cadillac dealership. . . . He looks like that guy on the golf course in the Levitra commercial.
It might be an idea for all literary critics to read the books they analyse aloud - it certainly helps to fix them in the mind, while providing a readymade seminar with your audience.
