An Ice Cream Parlor in Hell

I would  build an ice cream parlor
in hell--with no injustice done to
          either hot or cold.

“Is not indeed every man a student,
 and do not all things exist for the
student’s behoof?  …And, finally, is
not the true scholar the only true master?”

Most of my students would find this
sentiment “elitist.” They  would not like
the language. At best, they might patronize:

 “Quaint, how they would talk about
study and students and  scholars in
the olden days.”

Like studying History of Art. Looking at
old fashioned movies.  They moved around
like puppets.  All them cigarettes they smoked

in the 40’s and 50’s.

Behoof?

Stunned stupid plus the leisure time to
capitalize on it.

In early days they believed  each person
had his own  idiot demon to serve as

tutelary genius—paraclete, guide, muse
 and the whole idea was to be in touch

with it—sort of like a  GIS system, telstar... .

“The books of an older period

will not fit this.”

“Genius is always sufficiently the enemy of
genius by over-influence.”

The problem with trying to provoke, —a 
colleague advised me: you might succeed.

Presuming:  you may easily be  thought

presumptuous.

Can’t force the issue.

“You must be an inventor to read well…
There is then creative reading as well as

creative writing.”