The cat and M's finger
Today has consisted so far of a trip to the hospital to get M's finger operated on.
She needed a driver because her hand was to be (and still is) all wrapped up.
Last night's NOVA was about Health related issues the of Boston Marathon.
I was interested to see that I am doing approximately what I should be doing when I ride.
Well, except for lack of carbs on the fated last north Lk Wash run.
I remember I had a nice big cinnamon roll at Redmond which took me at a good clip almost to what's it's name city just north of Kenmore.
Where I crashed, so to speak.
By the way, this is the cat that has disappeared.
O.K. It's a picture of the cat
I'm reading an hilarious book called "Wittgenstein's Mistress" maybe I'll tell you about it sometime.
It's by David Markson.
Here's a quote;
"If one wishes to see a cat badly enough, one will doubtless see one."
So, apparently, you've been wishing to see a cat.
Bothell, that's the city's name.
She needed a driver because her hand was to be (and still is) all wrapped up.
Last night's NOVA was about Health related issues the of Boston Marathon.
I was interested to see that I am doing approximately what I should be doing when I ride.
Well, except for lack of carbs on the fated last north Lk Wash run.
I remember I had a nice big cinnamon roll at Redmond which took me at a good clip almost to what's it's name city just north of Kenmore.
Where I crashed, so to speak.
By the way, this is the cat that has disappeared.
O.K. It's a picture of the cat
I'm reading an hilarious book called "Wittgenstein's Mistress" maybe I'll tell you about it sometime.
It's by David Markson.
Here's a quote;
"If one wishes to see a cat badly enough, one will doubtless see one."
So, apparently, you've been wishing to see a cat.
Bothell, that's the city's name.
Labels: cinnamon roll
posted by Lane Savant at 12:02 PM
6 Comments:
OMG, who in hell is the anonymous commentor on the last posting who laments that MY SPACE is attracting
"snippity Seattle composers"? I just had to guffaw over that comment!
What happened to Meredith's finger? Trips to the hospital are never a great joy. Personally, I spend much too much time in them, and around them. Today, for instance, is yet already time for my "next" medical treatment.
You probably would not have "crashed" if you would have carb loaded on protein instead of sugar, mein herr. The days are sometimes sunny, breezy, and begging for the rolling of those Fidelio treks. Is Bothell the northern most city on Lake Washington? My foggy Seattle recall seems to suggest it is?
That is a lovely snapshot of your missing pussy(cat). And yes, we, the collective we, did want and need to see a pic of your puss.
Wittgenstein's Mistress is a novel unlike anything David Markson—or anyone else—has ever written before. It is the story of a woman who is convinced—and, astonishingly, will ultimately convince the reader as well—that she is the only person left on earth. Presumably she is mad. And yet so appealing is her character, and so witty and seductive her narrative voice, that we will follow her hypnotically as she unloads the intellectual baggage of a lifetime in a series of irreverent meditations on everything and everybody from Brahms to sex to Heidegger to Helen of Troy. And as she contemplates aspects of the troubled past which have brought her to her present state, so too will her drama become one of the few certifiably original fictions of our time.
"The novel I liked best this year," said the Washington Times upon the book's publication in 1988; "one dizzying, delightful, funny passage after another. . . . Wittgenstein's Mistress gives proof positive that the experimental novel can produce high, pure works of imagination."
"Addresses formidable philosophic questions with tremendous wit . . . remarkable . . . a novel that can be parsed like a sentence; it is that well made." (New York Times Book Review 5-22-88)
"Unsettling, shimmering . . . compelling." (Publishers Weekly 12-15-89)
"A work of genius . . . an erudite, breathtakingly cerebral novel whose prose is crystal and whose voice rivets and whose conclusion defies you not to cry." (David Foster Wallace)
"Brilliant and often hilarious . . . Markson is one working novelist I can think of who can claim affinities with Joyce, Gaddis, and Lowry, no less than with Beckett." (San Francisco Review of Books)
"In a just world, Wittgenstein's Mistress would be offered notice on the cover of the New York Review of Books. Let good readers therefore come and make up the difference." (Gordon Lish)
Publishers Weekly
In this "unsettling, shimmering novel," a woman who has gone mad because she is the last surviving creature on earth writes what PW called a "rambling compelling monologue" of her thoughts and remembrances. "By the end of this seamless stream of consciousness, there is no distinction between fantasy and reality, past and present."
It is good that you spend so much time reading. Most of us do not, and how great that you are willing to share. I am starting to feel the need to dig into some more metaphysical books, thinking about the old reason for existance, our life being a blink in God's eye, a grain of sand on the universe's beach.
My TFC meeting kept me up two hours past my bedtime last night, and I am sitting here this morning, listening to Alex Shapiro's music on a CD, with the foggiest cortex you could imagine. Early to bed, early to rise. He who does it too much, will be the first to dies. Ah, Retirement, raise thy red lantern, shake thy booty, prepare me for long nights and longer sleep ins, where days melt together and no longer have names.
Glenn
I shoulda' had two cinnamon rolls.
there's apparently some hoo-ha over at M-s about atheist groups having their site deleted.
Maybe some kind of "Christian" hack.
I don't remember anything in the Bible about internet communities being evil or anything.
The finger has a tendency to form cysts which are very painful being near a nerve or something.
Every five years or so she has them gouged out.
I think you're right about Bothell's place in the universe.
Scan, scan, scan...
The word has just finally gotten to me.
You have pictures on little pieces of paper.
You have to either have your own scanner of take them to a photoshop (that's what I did)to convert them into jpg format, or if you have a digital camera, stick 'em right into your computer, fool around with 'em in paint or whatever so they are small enough to fit.
Turns out I can't make it to sumner this week.
Lemme know sometime when you are ready to recieve audience.
Actually it might be Kenmore.
Where there's lots of seaplanes.
Hallo Lane (& Meredith!!)!
The LL and I wish Meredith's hand a speedy recovery!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Mit den besten Wünschen,
LL & Anonomann
Actually Meredith's wound has a high school guy's dream bandage.
It's the middle finger on the right hand that's all bandaged and splinted, and she's supposed to keep it elevated.
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