Speaking of Things That Have Been Tormenting Me

After reading Charles Lutwidge Dodgson's (aka Lewis Carroll) Alice In Wonderland, I found myself tormented by the riddle, "Why is a raven like a writing desk?" I thought, "Because they both have quills?" But it seemed a bit obvious, and not at all funny, which I felt a riddle should be.

I suppose I failed to take into account that it was British humor. Er, humour.

I also think that I should have also realized that it might have been my own difficulty imagining a raven that was anything like my writing desk.



That particular set-up no longer exists, but the brunt of my writing happened right there. I miss it so. Aw, well.

I also miss having room for all of my books. Right now I sleep nestled snugly between Ernest Hemingway's A Farewell To Arms and The Complete English Poems of John Donne.




Speaking of John Donne, I'd first heard of him when my high school did a play called W;t, in which the main character (mesmerizingly portrayed by Lauren Resnick) is a professor that teaches a class on John Donne's poetry and then dies of cancer. (There is more to it than that, but that's basically what happens.)

Heh, I remember D.C. putting up posters for our improv shows that proclaimed, "Reading Causes Cancer."

The other night I picked up the complete poems and read the first two poems, The Flea and The Good Morrow.

A line in the second one struck without warning, like some sort of iambic mugger.

"For love, all love of other sights controules,
And makes one little roome, an every where."

Then I realized, "This is some lovely shit!"

Oddly spelled at times, but very compelling.

* * * * *

Has anyone seen the 1998 adaptation of Great Expectations?
I am not one to ask favours, but I would dearly like to know what Estella says to Finn (she says it in French) the night before she leaves him for the first time.

If you tell me, you will be handsomely rewarded with...with...a mystery box!

* * * * *

Luis woke up again, and we were talking again. This was earlier tonight, around 2:30 am. We were laughing, and my mom woke up and came out to scold us. She sent Luis back to bed.

She heard me coughing, and then told me, in essence, that I needed to be more careful with my health or I would wake up dead. I laughed/coughed.

Then she tried to convince me that I had bronchitis. I laughed/coughed again. I have been sick for almost two weeks now, but to be fair, I haven't exactly been taking it easy.

She made me take Ny-Quil, which is something I'm afraid of. I'm telling you, they bottle eternity and sell in liquid form. I always feel very, very, off after I take it. But I guess it's good that I'm sitting here writing and not trying to drive, or see how fast I can dissassemble and reassemble my shotgun. (I was never very good at that sort of thing.)

"Tell me, where all past yeares are,
Or who cleft the Divel's foot,
Teach me to heare Mermaides singing,
Or to keep of envies stinging,
And finde
What winde
Serves to advance an honest minde."

-Song.