Good morning. Self is in dire need of caffeine fix:
She greets The Ancient One:
Bella was born on Sept. 30, 1995. If you multiply her age by the number 7, that translates, in “human years,” to 112. The irony is that she out-lived self’s other beagle, Gracie, who passed away in April 2011. Gracie was not even 10 (Mourn, mourn, mourn)
But, pardon the digression, dear blog readers. What triggered this post was a Salon.com review of the most recent episode of Mad Men, “Tea Leaves.”
In today’s Salon.com, she writes:
. . . life is like waiting all night in a crowded concrete hallway thinking you’re about to meet the Rolling Stones, only to find out that you’ve signed a deal with the Trade Winds instead.
All youthful dreams die, and adult life is the long, slow accommodation to the way things actually are versus the way we not only hoped but believed they’d be (As Henry puts it later in a more hopeful context, “This is what it could be, but it’s not gonna be.”)
But self begs to differ with Engoron. Sometimes, youthful dreams do bear fruit. Exhibit A: Self’s life, in the past year or so. In the meantime, self has hopes — some very high hopes — for her 15-page pig-story-of-the-apocalypse, “Thing.”
Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.