ravings of a humid mind

August 9, 2003


When I went to the doctor on Thursday for the "clearance for surgery" physical, I should have asked him to check to see if I am growing gills. Can humans breathe in air this wet without evolving into some fish, marine mammal, marine invertebrate, slime mold mutant? Bright green mold is growing on my fence and the light pole. I check myself for mold in the shower every morning. If I had wanted to live in the tropics, I would have moved to Costa Rica or someplace far less expensive than "the projects" here. The crazy lady was out there with a weed whacker yesterday in the intervals between rain showers. Not that a weed whacker is the tiniest bit effective against mold, nor even crabgrass it seems. The crabgrass that I whacked a few days ago has already grown back! Meanwhile, Pajama Woman's jungle grows ever more impenetrable. Pretty soon it will overrun the parking lot and piss off the crazy lady. I think it will be awhile before Pajama Woman plants a garden outside my unit after all. Something about the mote in your neighbor's yard versus the beam in your own...

A turkey vulture has been hanging around in the trees on the other side of the complex. It perches on a snag and commands a great view of the whole place. I keep expecting the condo association to send out a memo about how turkey vultures aren't allowed and we'd best all move our turkey vultures to some other tree by 7:30 AM. But no, the missive that slid under the door yesterday merely tells us to move our cars out of the parking lot by 7:30 AM on Monday. Not a word about unauthorized turkey vultures.

My concentration/attention/motivation is greatly diminished by the humidity. Not only do I not want to do yard work or cook or take the trash out, but I can't seem to read one book through to the end before I start another one. Of course, it would help if the books I'm choosing had some kind of sustained narrative throughout. Banvard's Folly by Paul Collins is lots of fun but each chapter is a separate vignette about and obscure historical failure. They're meant to be read one at a time, not whole book start to finish. I'm not even reading them in order any more. I just pick the one that strikes my fancy. The Hungarians by Paul Lendvai is meant to be read start to finish as a history of the Hungarians. Unfortunately, the English translation is written in an academic style with which I lose patience. I am reading it by looking things up in the index when there's something I am curious about. An application of hypertext, I guess. I picked up a book yesterday about the Connecticut River. It's loosely structured around history in the towns along the watershed from sea to source. Again, it's a bunch of vignettes well worth reading but no narrative to move it forward. Nonetheless I am reading it in order start to finish. I kind of want to understand that one's structure because I've been musing about how to structure my "Jordan Mirrored in Merrimack" thing. Do I start with the glacier relocating the outlet from Boston Harbor to the Gulf of Maine at Plum Island and go chronologically? Do I start at the source and go to the sea? Do I just put together essays about the Merrimack River grouped around themes like bald eagles, alewives, Atlantic salmon, purple loosestrife, witches, abolitionists, mill workers, labor organizers, poets ... What makes me think I am ever actually going to write anything at all about anything whatsoever?

By the way, the theory that Hungarians have extraterrestrial origins way predates my acquaintance with Zsolt. Here come the Magyar Martians.

Today's Reading
The Hungarians by Paul Lendvai

This Year's Reading
2003 Book List


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Copyright © 2003, Janet I. Egan