I feel like a punch-drunk boxer tackling the fifteenth round this morning. Because of wild carousing all night? If only. Because of straws and the relative strength of a camel’s back – although I identify more with donkeys. Something to do with geography and culture, no doubt.
A shame authors can’t sue translators. In this instance, the translators may be as dead as the author so there’s not much litigation in view. I didn’t expect a transcendental experience when I paid my fifty centimes for a tired edition of Groucho Marx’s autobiography. Why I didn’t leaf through to “hear” if the writing sounded like Marx? I don’t know. Bottom line: it didn’t even sound close to Groucho and there wasn’t even the titter you get from watching a segment of a Dickens-based film dubbed in Japanese. From what remains of the reading experience, I gather Marx suffered from insomnia and feared ending his days as an indigent. On both scores, he has my full sympathy.
Even the prospect of tackling more revision feels like a full bale of hay added to the load this morning, so I’ll stick with pleasantries such as : the wind. Has stopped. No need to brace against crumbling buildings and risk a konk over the head from a falling piece of said structure (wordpress wanted this to read “a monk over the head” but no flying monks or nuns reported anywhere in the neighborhood).
The French press is all a-flutter over yet another sexual harassment scenario. All the usual stuff and all the usual To Tell or Not To Tell because that’s how harassment works best. I note, in this case, that the man changed targets whenever a woman turned on him and slapped him in the face. I used a more extreme gambit with a long-ago creepy boss. It worked but whether the harasser suffers the consequences he deserves or not, there’s no glorious feeling that attaches to recollections of that type.
I’m broke and beyond because of the dog’s illness. Can’t see how I’ll make it through the week, let alone the month. Banks advance money to some but hold back funds for others. I belong to the second category. When things get ludicrous enough, either you collapse or you don’t. Sometimes, you do both and the rest of the story depends on whether you collapse, then pick yourself up, or the other way round.
moneys-in moneys-out update, in case some far-away family member reads this: the money I deposited on the 4th finally landed on my account this morning. I’m sure the bank’s debit feature will work at electronic speed though. I’ll save the sarcasm about to rise up – a waste of energy better put to some other use.