Can you play a nun?
Can you play a nun’s hand?
Can you play
a quirky nun’s hand
so filled with life and laughter and the real stuff,
it can’t help but make us smile?
“Say — who was that?
Who just pinched me?
I didn’t expect to be pinched like that,
much less by a nun’s hand.”
Oh that Robin Williams.
Blog
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Robin Williams: What can’t you play?
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The Don Quixote Deathmarch, Week 10
Week 10, no less, in which the identities of many marchers and their monkeys may be revealed — and yes, Part II! Congrats to you not-so-few, you justly proud, you still-marching marchers. I’m really delighted with how many people are hanging in there and with the rich spate of comments from this past week. I’m sure some folks are a bit behind (I’m about 20 pages shy of the mark my own self), but, call me a delusional marcher errant, it feels like this remaining crew is gonna make it through.
Besides the Part II-ness of it all, I had a personal DM-related milestone this last week: suddenly both my kids are old enough that I can take them with me to the coffee shop for 20-30 minutes of mellow time — just enough to read a chapter or two of the ole DQ, while they sip their lemonade and draw. And the days are long. And life is good.
Next Wednesday: Let’s catch our breath at the end of Chapter XIII: (aka page 538, Grossman), where two squires appear to be loaded, and we’re just about to learn — finally! — “what befell the Knight of the Wood and the Knight of the Sorrowful Face.” -
The myth of bone
Do you believe you have bone inside you?
Have you bought stock
in the scam that
you’re made of stone?
Why not skin? Solid through?
Why not dense-coiled hair
to prop your fading hips?
As if we have a pelvis inside us.
Tell me this: how did that stone
get in there? That stone called
“bone”?
And how come that stone isn’t worn
by time
to a pebble? -
Jeff
Jeff Goldblum
This one, the fourth in a series of desktop-sized painterly images of individuals engaged with a glowing orb, set against a blue/textured frame, goes out to Kim and Zoro, whose comments today made me pause to reconsider the only-partly-realized genius and, yes, the big bag of pathos that is Jeff Goldblum. -
my son’s asleep right now
in his red and black
“Incredibles” pajamas
with his arms propped
behind his head like
a catapult on safety.
His face is a bass note,
calm and confident
as if to say:
“I’m a super hero. And a bass note. I’m a catapult.
And I’ve got plots and plans aplenty.” -
Danny, Kurt, Al
Remember that scene in Close Encounters where Richard Dreyfus was compelled to make a mountain out of mashed potatoes? Something very similar happened to me not too long ago. Except instead of a potato mountain, I found myself forced to make a trifecta of images, each sized for a 1024 x 768 PC/Mac desktop. They featured Danny Kaye, Kurt Vonnegut, and Al Gore engaged with a glowing orb. And they were set in a bluish textured frame.
The experience left me shaken. I had so many questions. For example: Why is Danny Kaye wearing that outfit?
At first no answers came. And then I heard a voice as cool and reassuring as a Dairy Queen Flurry. It said:
“Now more than ever, Americans needs heroes. And if they can’t have heroes, they should at least have Danny Kaye, Kurt Vonnegut, and Al Gore desktop images set in a bluish textured frame and featuring a glowing orb. Post these images on cecilvortex.com. Tell people they can click to see the full-sized image, or right-click to save an image out and use them as desktops. Then wait for our next transmission.”
And so I did….
Danny Kaye
Kurt Vonnegut
Al Gore -
The Don Quixote Deathmarch, Week 9
Oh my stars and garters — Week 9!, wherein both marchers errant and their faithful squires cavort, with strange and pleasing results. As Mr. Magoo pointed in last week’s comments, we’ve hit a heckuva milestone by flipping past page 400 (Grossman). And you know what they say about Don Quixote: the last 540 pages are the easiest.
For me, this last patch wasn’t quite up to the level of, say, the tale of Zoraida and the Captain, which was a pure page-turning treat. But I’m glad we’ve left that inn, at least for a stretch. It was starting to get kinda claustrophobic in there — like some sort of 17th Century Bob’s Big Boy, with an infinite number of wandering Dons and their flawless luvs supreme. It feels like most of the main threads have to come to some sort of resolution, leaving an appealingly open road for the second part of the book. Speaking of which…
Next Wednesday: …to Part II and beyond! — let’s aim for the end of our second Chapter II (page 473 Grossman), where I’m glad to report that the three of them appear to be having “a most amusing conversation.” -
Fear My Nostrils
You’re not the only one made uncomfortable
by these lens flares
twin pipes
that threaten, curl,
and shine.
They can wrench the wind out of a room.
Catch 5 quarters in mid-air. Each.
And when they sneeze
you turn away to miss a flash
against the back of that
prairie thunderstorm
cow skull. -
The Don Quixote Deathmarch, Week 8
Welcome to Week 8, which recounts the pleasing tale of the mugnet inclined, along with other strange events that occured along the way. This was a week of highs and lows for me. There was the high of finding out that Mr. Magoo finds me extremely hot. Followed almost immediately by the low of finding out that he thinks “So Called Bill” and “Jeff” are hot too. And then another low — losing my book. And finally, the high of finding it again. I’m spinning, I am. I’m also a couple of chapters behind, and like a lot of folks, finding the plot sorta blending into itself. But then there’s the Second Part of the Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha,” just a short flip ahead. It calls to us! And so we march on!
Next Wednesday: let’s hang our spurs at the end of Chapter XLIX, just before something Don Quixote appears to think is “really good!” -
moderation
you shouldn’t eat
so much of any one thing
that if they found out
that a really really
huge amount
of that one thing
kills people
you’d stop and say:
oh jeez
