Washing Ellie is a good thing to do, but it seems abusive. She does not like water. She does not like soap. She does not like the combination of the two. The shakes like a dog. But tonight, she's sleeping close to me. She's my favorite dog.
I actually did my reading over the weekend, and it's a total relief. Hard to believe that it's the first time that I've done this--well, actually not the first time. I had all the reading done for Derrida's Limited Inc a b c, but that was the day I got my knee smashed. Anyway, I'm reading Thomas Mann's Magic Mountain. I suspect it may be the genesis of a certain Ken Kesey story.
Yes, and news. Jess and I had our first money/job talk without entropy-ing ourselves to the level of dolts. This is a good step. The problem is that the job market just isn't there for Jess. She'll be flying high again.
I think I should buy and/or get Dylan's Chronicles Vol. 1. What I've read is pretty interesting. He's a leearned man, and he sort of continues a Beat-type perspective. The important thing is to have one's finger on the pulse. Of what? You'll know when you feel it.
Me? I'm working toward such an understanding. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. (Note to self.)
Yes, the Red Sox won, but I'm more interested in the mental well-being of the dog Ellie and how cool and nice the nights are out here. Small things to worry on, these.