Without Lifting A Finger

              

Julian Barnes. Again. Don't "love love" him, but on the other hand I keep coming back. A friend says it's about multiple voices. Dunno. Certainly he has a point here: "A" History. * Kind of just about where I am (Kindle says 66%):      Sunday. That thing about the Indians. To tell you the truth I was a bit miffed when I found out, but now I'm beginning to see it from their point of view. I told you I was learning the language -- she's really very sweet and not a stitch on but as I said no need to worry, angel, riddled with diseases I'm sure, apart from anything else, I mean. It turns out that half the words she's been teaching me are all wrong. I mean, they're real words except they're not the right ones. The first thing I learned more or less was thkarni which means -- well she said it meant -- this white stork we've been seeing a lot of. So when we saw one go flapping by I used to shout thkarni and the Indians would all...

At the end of my sojourn, I should be able to present the whole. Not. But here's to the gesture. * 



Not a great pic (never are), but it felt like a necessity. *

Not a race fan, but the colors caught my eye (en passant). I think it's some sort of an entrance (not sure), and I would assume that it's temporary. * 

    

Kafka never stoops to just retelling a myth. He somehow (a somewhat intangible somehow) makes it his own. * PROMETHEUS T here are four legends concerning Prometheus: According to the first, he was clamped to a rock in the Caucasus for betraying the secrets of the gods to men, and the gods sent eagles to feed on his liver, which was perpetually renewed. According to the second, Prometheus, goaded by the pain of the tearing beaks, pressed himself deeper and deeper into the rock until he became one with it. According to the third, his treachery was forgotten in the course of thousands of years, the gods forgotten, the eagles, he himself forgotten. According to the fourth, every one grew weary of the meaningless affair. The gods grew weary, the eagles grew weary, the wound closed wearily. There remained the inexplicable mass of rock.--The legend tried to explain the inexplicable. As it came out of a substratum of truth it had in turn to end in the inexplicable. [Fro...

Probably just a random hit (or blown off course?), but nice to have you aboard. * Guadeloupe ( / ɡ w ɑː d ə ˈ l uː p / ; French pronunciation: ​ [ɡwadəlup] ; Antillean Creole : Gwadloup ) is an insular region of France located in the Leeward Islands , part of the Lesser Antilles in the Caribbean . Administratively, it is an overseas region consisting of a single overseas department . It has a land area of 1,628 square kilometres (629 sq. mi) and a population of 403,750 (as of January 2014). [1] [note 1] Guadeloupe's two main islands are Basse-Terre to the west and Grande-Terre to the east, which are separated by a narrow strait that is crossed with bridges. They are often referred to as a single island. The department also includes the Dependencies of Guadeloupe which include the smaller islands of Marie-Galante and La Désirade , and the Îles des Saintes . Guadeloupe, like the other overseas departments, is an integral part of France. It is thus part of t...

I know, I know: stop with the same beach pics. Still, it's the morning light that I can't quite escape. It renders a landscape -- even a landscape touched by manscape -- something "other." Then there's the clouds ... * 

Just a short but potent tidbit (I'm super-busy today): You need a marriage, a long one, to become a monster.

    http://grammarist.com/usage/funner-more-fun/ 

Picture I've taken a thousand times (one more can't hurt). A little closer take on the mascot of Station No. 8. *        

      

      

We weren't at Brix, we were at Roe -- I had Ahi poke tacos, she had the fish plate with salmon. We were across the street, but still caught the vibes (jazz) and could see the little man above the fire station door. *                 

Rereading some books is like reading them for the first time. Anyway, I've abandoned Bishop's letters and Zbigniew Herbert's poetry (I'll be back) for a quick reread of the master. Montauk is not an easy book to find (I got it once from the library in Long Beach, and I have a good chunk of it in a Frisch reader), but an e-version was released on March 31. A short read. Already at about 40%. *** Montauk is a story by Swiss writer Max Frisch . It first appeared in 1975 and takes an exceptional position in Frisch's work. While fictional stories previously served Frisch for exploring the possible behavior of his protagonists, in Montauk , he tells an authentic experience: a weekend which he spent with a young woman at the American East Coast. The short-run love affair is used by Frisch as a retrospective on his own biography. In line with Philip Roth he tells his "life as a man," relates to the women with whom he was associated, and the failure of their...