The Other Problem With Commuting
When you’re running late… you’re an hour away, no matter how you slice it.
* * *
Other tidbits:
- to Dan, whose comment I only just saw thanks to an overzealous spam filter: do not be filled with jealousy over my 334 page style manual, as it includes many corollaries such as “generally follow the Chicago Manual of Style in these circumstances, except when you don’t think you should,” and “Webster’s spelling preferences should be followed in these circumstances, except when they shouldn’t be.”
- MY NEPHEW IS CRAWLING! He’s apparently been crawling, somewhat unenthusiastically, since Monday, but this was not immediately brought to Aunt Laura’s attention. Ahem. Video footage forthcoming.
- Cancer Man (not the X-Files character) has disappeared from his little spot of concrete on Randolph Street between Intelligentsia Coffee and Ann Taylor Loft. I saw him there every morning with a dirty bit of cardboard that said, “Cancer Starved Please Help.” He just sat there, slouching, knees up, head hanging down. He never said anything. I feel like a terrible human being for daring to worry about him, since all I’ve ever done is walk by him. Levinas says this is an ethical conflict I’m not dealing with, but I blame it on the combination of my protective parents (“NEVER talk to strangers and ESPECIALLY never get your wallet out in public”) and my Catholic upbringing (GUILT).
- phone conversation with Nephew’s mamma this afternoon:
me, somewhat surprised and proudly: I have more pictures in my office of Emmit than I do of my cats!
her: Well I should hope so. BECAUSE HE’S A PERSON. [lowering voice to refer to the cat pictures] People will think you’re crazy. Has the guy from Canasta been by your office yet?
* * *
current book: finished The Logic of a Rose on the bus this morning and started Sweet Thursday on the way home tonight. It was recommended by Advisor after I told him I hated Steinbeck, but 22 pages into and I’m not convinced this will change my mind. Except for this lovely (and possibly redemptive) passage, in which a two men tell stories of their old grocer:
They volleyed Lee Chong back and forth, and their memories built virtues that would have surprised him, and cleverness and beauty too. While one told a fine tale of that mercantile Chinaman the other waited impatiently to top the story. Out of their memories there emerged a being scarcely human, a dragon of goodness and an angel of guile. In such a way are gods created.
current music: I haven’t been listening to a very wide variety of tunes lately. Feel free to send me mix CDs.
current socks: gray with blue and white polka dots. With my Keens, of course, so the polka dots peek through.
Posted 14 July 2006
No Comments
Comments RSS TrackBack Identifier URI
Leave a comment
I just saw him. He’s on Michigan, south of Randolph now. Fear not.