Aug. 23rd, 2012 02:58 pm
Nothing about nothing
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monshu! I was so peevish last night, I could tell it was getting to him. I was having one of those days when Nothing Is Wrong Yet Everything Is and I didn't know what to do about it. It's times like that I really wish someone was able to meditate on my behalf. Then I got a completely unanticipated attack of reflux which made me question whether my attempts to cut back on the omeprazole are fundamentally misguided. I really should've been journaling this from the start so I'd have something more to go by than impressions. In any case, double dose tonight because I really really don't want to deal with six nights in a row of unrestful sleep.
The GWO ordered three books for me from Amazon and it's been a pleasure watching them come in one-by-one. As is usually the case, the titles were plucked from the top of my WishList without any sort of underlying logic (I've seriously considered deleting some of my selections and re-adding them so I'll finally get stuff like The discovery of France that have been there for over four years) so it was hard at first to remember why I'd selected them and why. One was in French (I think she's Canadian Chinese, but I don't really remember; I flipped through it but didn't see any place names ).
The most recent addition was also the one I happen to be most interested in reading, Neal Ascherson's Black Sea. It's ridiculously well-written; I think the Old Man will appreciate reading it when I'm done. While waiting for it, I picked up Empires of the word again. It's a quick read, even allowing myself time to be annoyed at some of Ostler's boners. (I was particularly amused to read Ascherson's fascinating account of the Karaite community in Crimea one evening, including his ridicule of the legend that they were survivals of the Khazars, and then the next day read the passage where Ostler asserts that legend as fact.)
I still find myself spending too much time immersed in myself lately, despite some efforts to reach out. We went to the Glenwood Arts Festival last Saturday, but that wasmonshu's doing; left to myself I might've buried myself in Indo-Iranian lexicography instead. We chatted up a nice couple in town from Iowa, and met up with them at Touché later. But since then I've blown off invitations to see Dead Can Dance, hear a friend sing, or meet up with the Rabbi and I haven't been good about calling people either. I did at least phone Blondie for Eid, but as I suspected the mess in the Middle East (his aunt is still hunkered down in Derʿā; he hasn't heard from here in weeks) cast a pall over our conversation.
monshu! I was so peevish last night, I could tell it was getting to him. I was having one of those days when Nothing Is Wrong Yet Everything Is and I didn't know what to do about it. It's times like that I really wish someone was able to meditate on my behalf. Then I got a completely unanticipated attack of reflux which made me question whether my attempts to cut back on the omeprazole are fundamentally misguided. I really should've been journaling this from the start so I'd have something more to go by than impressions. In any case, double dose tonight because I really really don't want to deal with six nights in a row of unrestful sleep.The GWO ordered three books for me from Amazon and it's been a pleasure watching them come in one-by-one. As is usually the case, the titles were plucked from the top of my WishList without any sort of underlying logic (I've seriously considered deleting some of my selections and re-adding them so I'll finally get stuff like The discovery of France that have been there for over four years) so it was hard at first to remember why I'd selected them and why. One was in French (I think she's Canadian Chinese, but I don't really remember; I flipped through it but didn't see any place names ).
The most recent addition was also the one I happen to be most interested in reading, Neal Ascherson's Black Sea. It's ridiculously well-written; I think the Old Man will appreciate reading it when I'm done. While waiting for it, I picked up Empires of the word again. It's a quick read, even allowing myself time to be annoyed at some of Ostler's boners. (I was particularly amused to read Ascherson's fascinating account of the Karaite community in Crimea one evening, including his ridicule of the legend that they were survivals of the Khazars, and then the next day read the passage where Ostler asserts that legend as fact.)
I still find myself spending too much time immersed in myself lately, despite some efforts to reach out. We went to the Glenwood Arts Festival last Saturday, but that was
monshu's doing; left to myself I might've buried myself in Indo-Iranian lexicography instead. We chatted up a nice couple in town from Iowa, and met up with them at Touché later. But since then I've blown off invitations to see Dead Can Dance, hear a friend sing, or meet up with the Rabbi and I haven't been good about calling people either. I did at least phone Blondie for Eid, but as I suspected the mess in the Middle East (his aunt is still hunkered down in Derʿā; he hasn't heard from here in weeks) cast a pall over our conversation.Tags: