Sunday, November 18, 2007

Le week-end

Is it really that difficult to be reconciled to the high price of a cup of coffee when it is more dear to us than most things? Makes it even worse.

I wouldn't join any club that would have me.

Six books (French and English, novels, a play, philosophy, politics, economics), plus dozens of articles and a short story, in the past three days. Two movies. One bottle of vin bon marché. Two bottles of beer. Three or four pots of coffee. Eggs.

Hello, God. I would like some snow. Thank you. See you soon.

How did Nietzsche eat with that mustache? My beard gets filled with all sorts of food, but washing one's face with shampoo is delightful. I peeked from behind the shower curtain, saw my sudsy face in the mirror, gave myself the finger.

Should one trust someone with a dining room that is utilized only on "special occasions," housing a table into which there no words imprinted?

Only a handful of leaves left on the maple. Bright blue sky. Looks cold.

You will carry your umbrella everywhere, but will no longer have the strength to push it all the way open, your back getting wet when it rains. Someone noticing this will help you push it all the way open, until it snaps into place. "Oh," you will say. When it stops raining your knobby fingers and your gray arms will not have the strength to close the umbrella again. You will sit in the doctor's waiting room, eyes downcast, noticing that the band-aide has fallen off your leg, ashamed of your open umbrella.

I do listen to things other than Smog and Bonnie Billy.

Two Gallants - "Damnatio memoriae"

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