Not Dead
Yet.
The last day that I posted, 2.3.08, I took advantage of the warmish weather and walked to the library. I checked out a biography of Mencken by William Manchester and began reading it while walking back home. As noted last month I have had a simmering flair for bios as the Zweig testament to Erasmus verified.
Unfortunately the week then arrived, a heavy dose of work, some films from Wild and Woolly and playing catch up with Judt's postwar kept me from any free reading, as it were.
This past Saturday I again walked to the library, having vowed to Joel that I was going to walk as much as I could -- such prompted a 90 minute walk Friday night. The dash to the library was grand, it was cooler than the past Sunday but extremely windy -- and I had forgotten a hat. I read more of Manchester's Disturber Of The Peace. Sunday arrived with a catterwaul, I ached all over, was feverish and felt my throat being wenched into insufferable knots. I spent all day reading of Mencken's exploits, his own ailments and, alas, his contradictions. I finally finished the book Monday -- after sleeping for another 13 hours. My wife read Doktor Faustus by Kit Marlowe over the weekend and I read it while sipping Thura-Flu yesterday afternoon. I didn't really care for it, its erudition and sweeping attempts at the base nature of humanity accomplished little nor did the expected supplication in the final stanzas strike me as dramatic.
Still feverish and kitten-weak, I picked up Jonathan Phillips' The Fourth Crusade: and the Sack of Constanople and Fathers and Crows by William T. Vollmann. I read 120 pages of each until my nocturnal medicines pushed me over before ten o'clock. I largely missed the winter theatrics outside and I am feeling better.
The last day that I posted, 2.3.08, I took advantage of the warmish weather and walked to the library. I checked out a biography of Mencken by William Manchester and began reading it while walking back home. As noted last month I have had a simmering flair for bios as the Zweig testament to Erasmus verified.
Unfortunately the week then arrived, a heavy dose of work, some films from Wild and Woolly and playing catch up with Judt's postwar kept me from any free reading, as it were.
This past Saturday I again walked to the library, having vowed to Joel that I was going to walk as much as I could -- such prompted a 90 minute walk Friday night. The dash to the library was grand, it was cooler than the past Sunday but extremely windy -- and I had forgotten a hat. I read more of Manchester's Disturber Of The Peace. Sunday arrived with a catterwaul, I ached all over, was feverish and felt my throat being wenched into insufferable knots. I spent all day reading of Mencken's exploits, his own ailments and, alas, his contradictions. I finally finished the book Monday -- after sleeping for another 13 hours. My wife read Doktor Faustus by Kit Marlowe over the weekend and I read it while sipping Thura-Flu yesterday afternoon. I didn't really care for it, its erudition and sweeping attempts at the base nature of humanity accomplished little nor did the expected supplication in the final stanzas strike me as dramatic.
Still feverish and kitten-weak, I picked up Jonathan Phillips' The Fourth Crusade: and the Sack of Constanople and Fathers and Crows by William T. Vollmann. I read 120 pages of each until my nocturnal medicines pushed me over before ten o'clock. I largely missed the winter theatrics outside and I am feeling better.
posted by jon faith at
2:55 PM
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