At Home He's a Tourist

He fills his head with culture/ He gives himself an ulcer.

Saturday, February 19, 2005

Last night a few of the men at church got together for dinner. One of them served barbecued elk ribs, obtained from a hunting trip he took to New Mexico. I overindulged slightly on wine, beer, pecan pie and ice cream (but atoned today at the gym). Then to the pastor's study (a room in The Attorney's downtown office) for smokes.

Our university has installed an internet filter. Too many guys downloading porn, from what I heard. You would think that the library would be the first to be told about this development, but we only found out by accident when K.L. tried to open a site and got a "SafeSurf" denial message. Of course the filter blocks plenty of innocuous sites and lets through plenty of pornographic ones, so it won't solve the problem completely.

Friday, February 18, 2005

I'm almost done with Mistress of Mistresses, the book I turn to when I involuntarily wake up at 4:00 a.m. These conditions of fatigue may have something to do with the fact that I found it a difficult, though enjoyable, read--or maybe the archaisms, fanciful similes, and shifting time frames would make for slow going even were I rested and alert. The underlying metaphysics of the book is confusing as well, but it seems to be an erotic pantheism in which loving God consists of shagging Her multiple sexy incarnations. Despite my reservations, I liked MOM enough to get the sequel, Fish Dinner in Memison, thru ILL.

Still getting flushed, so that my forehead looks like I've got a severe sunburn. Doctor's appointment on Thurs.

Our book sale is over. I found a first edition of William James' Memories and Studies (1911). The most expensive copies on go for $150!

Thursday, February 17, 2005

Some book news (I've got to do something to merit the name "Biblioblog," after all): The Library of America just released its H. P. Lovecraft anthology. I love LOA editions, so I might have to get this for myself.

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

A brief Lubbock excursion yesterday. At a Hastings I bought a brand-new DVD copy of Tampopo, one of my top 20 movies, for only $4 (marked down from $15). Sadly ironic, given my Lenten resolution, but it will make Easter all the more enjoyable.

My face has been flushing and burning at random the past few days. Incipient rosacea?

Sunday, February 13, 2005

Woke up at 4:00 a.m., per usual. Too tired to read, the only thing I could do was listen to dumb radio preachers (the only talk radio programs available around here) until I fell back asleep around 6:30. These preachers are of the witch-doctor Pentecostal variety, healing callers' ailments by fiat over the airwaves. I should probably check out some audio books from the public library, if they have any. (It's a tiny operation with lousy hours.)

With only five hours of sleep accumulated I seriously considered skipping church, but thought that some human contact would be a good thing. Talked about Monty Python with the attorney, who remembers seeing Holy Grail when it was released in theaters back in the seventies. I almost had a chance to see a revival showing of it in Dallas a couple of years back, but a certain someone couldn't stay up for the midnight screening. (I forgive him, though!)

I finished the Python book, and am about 2/3 of the way done with Mistress of Mistresses. The latter is quite good, even if Eddison is addicted to highly elaborate similes. I requested the sequel, Fish Dinner in Memison, through ILL. It's interesting to me that so many highly educated Brits (Tolkien, Peake, Eddison, Dunsany, Lewis, etc.) devoted their literary efforts to fantasy during a particular era, late 19th to middle 20th century. Perhaps a vestige of Romanticism.

Long guitar practice this afternoon. Started on Bach's Bourree, a nice change from Monk (although "Ruby My Dear" still needs a lot of polishing).

Ever noticed that music can be unusually affecting when you're half asleep? I woke up one night with a disc playing and the current track sounded poignantly beautiful. In the clear light of day, it was nothing special.