A blog formerly known as Bookishness / By Charles Matthews

"Dazzled by so many and such marvelous inventions, the people of Macondo ... became indignant over the living images that the prosperous merchant Bruno Crespi projected in the theater with the lion-head ticket windows, for a character who had died and was buried in one film and for whose misfortune tears had been shed would reappear alive and transformed into an Arab in the next one. The audience, who had paid two cents apiece to share the difficulties of the actors, would not tolerate that outlandish fraud and they broke up the seats. The mayor, at the urging of Bruno Crespi, explained in a proclamation that the cinema was a machine of illusions that did not merit the emotional outbursts of the audience. With that discouraging explanation many ... decided not to return to the movies, considering that they already had too many troubles of their own to weep over the acted-out misfortunes of imaginary beings."
--Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Excuses, Excuses


Sorry for the absence, but I've been (a) on a deadline, and (b) searching for Simon (above), who beat it out the door on Sunday night and hasn't been persuaded to come home yet. He's been reported to the authorities (the people who put the microchip in him), and we've posted fliers around the neighborhood. Last night, we saw him, but he hasn't yielded to blandishments. His brother, Nicky, wanders around the house yowling for him. Cats are stubborn people.

Otherwise, pissed off about Maine, glad to see the wingnuts thwarted in New York.
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