Disappointed that no one named Eco’s “Foucault’s Pendulum,” which (I discovered when I recently re-read it) exemplifies one of the most crushing forms of literary badness: The Book That Can Only Be Read Once.
#WritingFromIsolationWard
Disappointed that no one named Eco’s “Foucault’s Pendulum,” which (I discovered when I recently re-read it) exemplifies one of the most crushing forms of literary badness: The Book That Can Only Be Read Once.
We’ve got a Kauri wood candle holder dated at over 30,000 years old, a present from a friend in NZ. It’s extremely tacky thanks to the cheap gold-metal fitting that’s been fastened into the candle hole. 33,000 years, and what is some lovely fine-grained wood got turned into artless cheap-looking tourist bollocks. There’s something profound in that about human nature.
We’ve got a Kauri wood candle holder dated at over 30,000 years old, a present from a friend in NZ. It’s extremely tacky thanks to the cheap gold-metal fitting that’s been fastened into the candle hole. 33,000 years, and what is some lovely fine-grained wood got turned into artless cheap-looking tourist bollocks. There’s something profound in that about human nature.
Funny though it is, this is the lawyer from one side talking. May not be true. Hope it is. Why talking like Rorshach. Not sure.
posted by Sebmojo at 3:57 PM on March 18 [33 favorites +] [!]Rorschach talk gets favorites. MeFites all whores.
posted by You Can’t Tip a Buick at 4:00 PM on March 18 [17 favorites +] [!]Good joke. Everyone laugh.
posted by shakespeherian at 4:03 PM on March 18 [17 favorites +] [!]This. This ends now.
posted by sourwookie at 4:15 PM on March 18 [1 favorite +] [!]*eats beans*
posted by brundlefly at 4:17 PM on March 18 [12 favorites +] [!]
Funny though it is, this is the lawyer from one side talking. May not be true. Hope it is. Why talking like Rorshach. Not sure.
posted by Sebmojo at 3:57 PM on March 18 [33 favorites +] [!]Rorschach talk gets favorites. MeFites all whores.
posted by You Can’t Tip a Buick at 4:00 PM on March 18 [17 favorites +] [!]Good joke. Everyone laugh.
posted by shakespeherian at 4:03 PM on March 18 [17 favorites +] [!]This. This ends now.
posted by sourwookie at 4:15 PM on March 18 [1 favorite +] [!]*eats beans*
posted by brundlefly at 4:17 PM on March 18 [12 favorites +] [!]
When I was younger (how many of my comments begin this way?)(too many) I was hanging out with a girlfriend. We were in Greenwich Village in NYC. We both loved spicy food. We were lucky enough to come across a small shop that sold nothing but various hot pepper concoctions.
They had a table with a bunch of open jars, plastic spoons and tortilla chips.
So while chatting with the owner we sampled several of the sauces and enjoyed them all. With the bravado of a couple of young morons, we asked why there wasn’t anything “really hot” on the table.
She grinned and said that the really hot stuff (I am not joking) was kept behind the counter.
So she brought out a jar of sauce and warned us to only try a very tiny bit. The friend and I laughed. (This probably sounded like the laugh of a pair of drunks stepping out of a low flying plane over an active volcano, wearing blindfolds)
We both took a chip and dipped it into the jar and scarfed them down.
The next half hour or so are a blur. Some of the screaming was probably mine. No doubt the higher pitched ones.
I got some relief by pounding my head against the walls. The girlfriend got some relief by pounding on me.
I do not know the name of the evil that we consumed that day. But this does not matter. The night was supposed to be spent in lascivious revelry.
Instead it was spent fighting each other for access to the bathroom and howling. We loved each other so much.
Breakfast was milk. Ice cream. And yogurt. There was no oral sex for several days.
Don’t ask.
When I was younger (how many of my comments begin this way?)(too many) I was hanging out with a girlfriend. We were in Greenwich Village in NYC. We both loved spicy food. We were lucky enough to come across a small shop that sold nothing but various hot pepper concoctions.
They had a table with a bunch of open jars, plastic spoons and tortilla chips.
So while chatting with the owner we sampled several of the sauces and enjoyed them all. With the bravado of a couple of young morons, we asked why there wasn’t anything “really hot” on the table.
She grinned and said that the really hot stuff (I am not joking) was kept behind the counter.
So she brought out a jar of sauce and warned us to only try a very tiny bit. The friend and I laughed. (This probably sounded like the laugh of a pair of drunks stepping out of a low flying plane over an active volcano, wearing blindfolds)
We both took a chip and dipped it into the jar and scarfed them down.
The next half hour or so are a blur. Some of the screaming was probably mine. No doubt the higher pitched ones.
I got some relief by pounding my head against the walls. The girlfriend got some relief by pounding on me.
I do not know the name of the evil that we consumed that day. But this does not matter. The night was supposed to be spent in lascivious revelry.
Instead it was spent fighting each other for access to the bathroom and howling. We loved each other so much.
Breakfast was milk. Ice cream. And yogurt. There was no oral sex for several days.
Don’t ask.