The Old, The New

Me, sans black eye: The shirt she is wearing is one of those she threw away during a mad bout of cleaning closets, a few months ago.  Self has decided to stop wearing the shades the bellboy purchased for her.  So self has a black eye?  So what?

Pound, pound, pound goes the music from the party on the rooftop.  Amazingly, self thinks she will be able to sleep better because of the noise.

She read something in a magazine today:  an interview with Zsa Zsa Padilla, partner of the late Dolphy, King of Filipino Comedians.  Zsa Zsa said that one of the hardest things she had to adjust to was the fact that Dolphy kept the TV in their bedroom on all the time:  “It comforted him,” she said.  How poignant is that statement!  How wonderful!

Meanwhile, news from Stateside:

The garden, The Man informs self, is dying.  10 days:  that’s how long it took for the neglect to show.  Self was hoping the shorter days and cooler nights would compensate, even a little, for the lack of water.  She was mistaken.

There is endless parsing of the second Presidential debate, on both sides.

Cairo, the Navy Seals German Shepherd who was part of the raid on Osama’s compound in Abotthabad, is now officially famous:  Christiane Amanpour devoted a whole segment of her program to him.

Halloween is less than two weeks away (Self bought bags of Halloween candy, before she left)

She decided to skip Into the Wild (The attention required to read it is something self doesn’t have the energy for —  not, at any rate, at this point in time.)  Instead, she began to read President Obama’s Dreams From My Father, and it is wonderful!  She loves his candor.  Here is how he describes his maternal grandfather:

He would always be like that, my grandfather, always searching for that new start, always running away from the familiar.  By the time the family arrived in Hawaii, his character would have been fully formed, I think —  the generosity and eagerness to please, the awkward mix of sophistication and provincialism, the rawness of emotion that could make him at once tactless and easily bruised. His was an American character, one typical of men of his generation, men who embraced the notion of freedom and individualism and the open road without always knowing its price, and whose enthusiasms could as easily lead to the Cowardice of McCarthyism as to the heroics of World War II.  Men who were both dangerous and promising precisely because of their fundamental innocence; men prone, in the end, to disappointment.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

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