Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti All Over. Or, More from “The Exalted One”

Some day, dear blog reader, self will get to the end of this Haruki Murakami story. But that time is not yet now. And, besides, what else can self read that will bring a smile to her face every morning, especially as Dearest Mum has handed over to self the responsibility for getting her money back from B of A by initiating claims process against that person in the Philippines who very cleverly found a way to charge $2000 worth of groceries from Landmark on Dearest Mum’s ATM card??? In six separate shopping trips on the same day??? (Gee, someone at the bank must have thought: Either this is a very forgetful person, or this person is not Mrs. ______ !!)

That is all self will be doing this coming week, dear blog reader (aside from beginning to teach on-line creative writing class and teaching English 1C, of course). So, please indulge wild fascination with this story, in which narrator does nothing.

(If dear blog reader finds him or herself completely confused by what follows below, allow self to direct you to earlier “Spaghetti” quotes of Apr. 30 and May 4)

Without further ado (drumroll, please!) :

Spaghetti ala parmigiana
Spaghetti ala napoletana
Spaghetti al cartoccio
Spaghetti aglio e olio
Spaghetti ala carbonara
Spaghetti della pina

And then there was the pitiful, nameless leftover spaghetti carelessly tossed into the fridge.

Born in heat, the strands of spaghetti washed down the river of 1971 and vanished.

I mourn them all — all the spaghetti of the year 1971

THE END (For now)

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