About the Author
Were the author of this blog to die today, something like the following would be inserted into the Necrologium Sancrucense:
Admodum Reverendus Pater Edmundus Waldstein, professus et sacerdos Sanctae Crucis, magister theologiae, baccalaureus artium, doctorandus in Universitate Vindobonensi, subregens Seminarii Leopoldini, rector ecclesiæ in Siegenfeld.
The Necrologium has very strict ideas of what is worth mentioning; it would not mention that he was born in the eternal city, nor that is related to theologian Michael Waldstein, jurist Wolfgang Waldstein, onetime Commonweal editor Philip Burnham, political theorist James Burnham, and Hollywood actress Jane Wyatt.
Were he to die today, no one would have any use for his wish list on amazon.de.
About the Categories
The posts in this blog are divided into three main categories: the dove, the falcon, and the opalescent parrot. The first two are to be taken allegorically and are inspired by an illumination from Codex Sancrucensis 226. One might think that dove and the falcon exhaustively divide all possible blog topics, but they don’t, and therefore there is also the opalescent parrot. This bird is described by Alfred Noyes:
ONCE upon a time, my little ones, there was a be-yewtiful parrot. He had long green wings, eyes like rubies,with grey wrinkles round them, and a crest that looked as if it had been dyed in the blood of Prester John. But, when he ruffled his feathers, he looked like an opalescent mist of emotions. So he was called the Opalescent Parrot. He was hatched by the Orinoco, where the Spanish bells go ping-pang-pong when it is time for the alligators to eat another explorer ; but there must have a conventional strain in his blood, for he actually cracked his shell at the very moment in 1837 when the Archbishop, Dr. Howley, entered Kensington Palace, and therefore it is only right that the misguided bird should be called a VICTORIAN parrot. (Alfred Noyes, The Opalescent Parrot)