Through no fault of his own, Tony was unable via the 'comments box' to rectify a point of info in last night's ramblings that, in fact, needed no correction.
Only he will understand this, but that scarcely matters. ;).
"One more thing," he adds, however:
"When u publish yr autobigraphy, I shd like to appear as someone who had been there, done that & got the T-shirt & was therefore blasé about yesdy's film, rather than just a dozy philistine."
Fair point, sir.
Except that there will be no autobiography.
Thus I'd say forthwith that Tony's collection of T-shirts is substantial and wide-ranging if largely metaphorical, since I have very rarely seen him in any such thing.
His elegance of attire, on the contrary, puts me to shame.
zzz
As befits a rock of his stature, the man sent me today in search of John Donne, conscious that few others would fit immediate needs. Since it is all in the "wired world" now, Tony, not just lining your shelves, here's just one place for 'The Works of John Donne'.
It's the "labor of love" of one Anniina Jokinen, who's also achieved such surprising -- and modestly introduced -- things as this: 'John Donne. ELEGY XX - ELEGIA 20. Finnish Translation. Suomenkielinen käännös.'
Quite something, n'est-ce pas?
In return for a kindness rendered today, I should tell you -- and others -- of Luminarium.
Here's what Anniina and the others there say:
"This site combines three sites first created in 1996 to provide a starting point for students and enthusiasts of English Literature. Nothing replaces a quality library, but hopefully this site will help fill the needs of those who have not access to one."
You have much of the "quality library". For the likes of me, a find like this is precious indeed.
zzz
 I ended up talking sense tonight, rather than risking further accusations from the likes of even Francis the newsvendor of speaking in "poetry rather than French..."
And we're both still alive.
Leopard and wolf alike.
Nothing broken. Not even a plate.
True, it started with a truce, under the aegis of the Red Cross (more neutral territory you can scarcely find) and ended with a fresh beginning under the full moon...
It was more a matter, for me, of listening than talking.
At a restaurant so rare and perfect that there's no way I am disclosing its name and location on the Internet. A place which can remain that good in Paris for 10 years deserves all the secrecy it can get!
[Update: unfair, hence the photo.] Should you chance on this sidestreet and this gentleman, who loves his work, don't even hesitate. I have merely removed the address and 'phone number.
I am under orders to sleep properly now. This shall be done. At this hour, the noise of a great party across the garden out the back begins to show signs of abating.
Others may wish to close their windows. Not me.
Not at this time of year. It's only too short, yet already the eternally dissatisfied are complaining of the "heat"!
Where the wildcat has come from, with tales to touch me to the very quick but not for the Net, it was 35°C. That doesn't sound so bad...
On Friday night, I finally fell asleep to what used to be the dawn chorus.
Now it's one single bird, which I'm ashamed to say I cannot identify and will have to ask the lady who takes such loving care of that shared garden below. All the swallows disappeared after 1995.
And I woke, not so very much later, to appropriate rumbles of thunder.
 One thing I have to share.
What have I done?
This I found when I dared set foot at Marianne's own, shared new weblog.
As now she knows, I even did as I was told and read no more. I jumped to the end (of the love poem), for such it was, as her remark at the bottom of it pointed out.
But I have also told her that you cannot go so public with such things and then always expect your father to do as he is warned at the risk of his very skin.
It must be in the genes!
For good or for ill, I dare not imagine.
 As for this entry, I think it was safely ... ahem, public. Dreamer, I knew. Spanish student, yes. But such comments about the CIA? When she's 14, should I be proud or alarmed? ;)
Another log-link I was going to make, if amusing, can wait. [The party has just stopped, or quietened down sufficiently.
And so to bed it is. Update:]
No. Here it is, with the new day dawned and this entry subbed, though I'd wanted to serve it hot against the party background.
"The waitress looked at me funny when I ordered it. But if they don't want anyone to order it, why is it still there on the menu? It's on a little paper insert of specials, so it would be easy to replace. I thought about ordering it as the "Fusilli e Minestra alla Scott Peterson," but in retrospect I'm glad I didn't. That would have been totally immature.
When the waitress brought the order, she said, 'Who had the Fusilli e Minestra?' and I indicated that was me. Still, as she set it down, she said, 'Better known as the Robert Blake.' She said Blake's name loudly enough that people at the next table murmured excitedly--'Ooh, Robert Blake'--and craned their necks to see the plate."
I'd not heard, myself, of Robert Blake.
But some good food at last, again, plus a great liking for Brian Flemming's quirky eye (blogrolled) combined to draw my own to his 'Slumdance' restaurant review. Nicely illustrated as ever.
I was glad the day came, revising that sideroll, when he felt able to return to being "brian flemming".
The most observant of my own three and a half readers will recall that for a while, he felt his had to be called 'l.a. war blog', or something like. Brian first sharpened my own attention to the detail in the shameful story of the Baghdad flag (third part of this April 12 entry).
(Brian is still concerned about the fall-out.
"They don't like us. They really don't like us," he muttered on June 3, with a 'US image plummets' poll to make his point.
It's not, as Brian knows, that simple. Mercifully.
But this I would say. Though I get out and about less than usually I do at this time of year, I notice that for the first time I can recall, the number of Germans in town outweigh the Americans. By far.
Off the cuff and in the Métro.)
______
*Nuit blanche. For once even the superb Robert-Collins dictionary also fails where the poor old Harraps almost invariably does. "Sleepness night" doesn't cut it. Or even just "to go through the night": faire la nuit blanche.
The colour matters. Some things really just don't translate.
2:53:29 AM link 
|
|
postbox