Andare, Partire, Tornare

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The lady's not for burning

The B.B. King concert was wonderful, although I am left with no clear impression of it but pure notes, a silver-spangled jacket, and the spotlight bouncing off Lucille. Actually, not a bad impression to be left with. Bemo enjoyed the evening as well, which made me glad, because it was his anniversary present from me. Been rather bored over the weekend, despite the fact that it's been good to sleep. I think I've become overly dependent on the computer to entertain me. I'm not watching too much tv, at least, but time spent in front of one monitor or another works out in much the same way. Plus, I still feel really weird. My throat hurts and the cough medicine makes me feel nauseated and slightly drunk, even though it's not the thirteenth step of NyQuil (Big N, little y, BIG FUCKING Q!). Plus I've got that horrible cough-drop mouth, which feels like the whole inside of my mouth is furry. Bleah. Too much information, I know. So here's a little Christopher Fry, from "The Lady's Not For Burning" to cleanse your palate. You can thank Pamela Dean and _Tam Lin_ for making me go look for it.

And as for you, you with no eyes, no ears,
No senses, you the most superstitious
Of all --- (for what greater superstition
Is there than the mumbo-jumbo of believing
In reality?)--- you should be swallowed whole by Time
In the way that you swallow appearances.<
Horns, what a waste of effort is has been
To give you Creation's vast and exquisite
Dilemma! where altercation thrums
In every granule of the Milky Way,
Persisting still in the dead-sleep of the moon,
And heckling itself hoarse in that hot-head
The sun. As for here, each acorn drops
Arguing to earth, and pollen's all polemic. ---

We have wasted paradox and mystery on you
When all you ask for, is cause and effect! ---
A copy of your birth certificate is all you needed
To make you at peace with Creation. How uneconomical
The whole thing's been.

2:00 p.m. - 2002-01-21

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