Friday, March 21, 2008
As of this evening...
The Hardee's sign is still as pictured in my previous post. I'm wondering how many Jalapeno Thickpurges they've managed to sell in the meantime.
I've got much to write about, but nothing well-formed enough to make it sound at all intelligent.
Went to teach class this morning, then went to a local auction where I bought a small end-table for around $50, then came home, bought a small amount of groceries, memorized a poem about oral sex for class on Monday, and read 50 pages of a book. Overall, a day that fits in the "Not at all bad" category. I attempted to eat Mexican while reading Gertrude Stein and, well, it was easier trying to keep the salsa on the chips, quite frankly. I get the fact that Lucy Church is actually a church building and that there are various characters which could be the saints that inhabit said church (the characters are named John Mary, James Mary, and Simon Therese, among others) but then I get to passages like this:
In place of strange.
Complicated horses now. Horses now cow now complicated horses now. Horses now horses and a cow now. Complicated horses now.
It is torn in between and shells egg shells it is best as yellow peaches with a rose rosy rosy green.
Lucy Church an advantage Lucy Church made by it being with them it is attempting with them attempting with them. And might it be that that good good good if if it is not a bee or a wind a bee is from there and the wind is from there and so sheep so sewn so seated so when and then then so so much as much as withdraw.
And at that, I just have to turn to my plate of chips and refrieds and munch on that. I've found a book I need to send someone, I've got 14 papers to grade, as well as a number of other household tasks to do. Complicated horses now. Complicated now. Now. Not a bee or a wind. Complicated horses. Now.
The pic is from Berlin, very near Potsdamerplatz, the strange preserved remnants of a hotel where all the bright set sat. The dining room where Chaplin had breakfast, where Dietrich ordered eggs, now exposed to air, enclosed in glass and avant-garde architecture. The scarf gone, the coat still worn, the cold not the same but back, now there, now waning.