Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Cold = hibernate.

For is not the very metaphor for the love of God for mankind a cradle? aka, a bed? and is there anything at all wrong with just chilling out/checking out for an evening or so, when the weather is cold and it's also, and not uncoincidentally, dark?


Where is my motivation?

[side note: the historian thinks
that Carmelo A. is a punk.]

And on that note, I will leave you with this, from a book that arrived today. I ordered it because I no longer remember why, way back awhile ago when somewhere I ran across it and had to have it but it wasn't quite printed yet, a book called L'Usage du Monde, trans. The Way of the World. It is written by Nicolas Bouvier, and it is about the year and half (1953-54) in which he and his friend Thierry drove in their old Fiat from Geneva to the Khyber Pass:
Travelling outgrows its motives. It soon proves sufficient in itself. You think you are making a trip, but soon it is making you--or unmaking you.

Young Nicolas.

And this is where they went. Although sometimes they stopped for a bit, to linger, slouch around, perhaps . . . to hibernate? Reading on . . .

TAGS: Afghanistan, Iran, travel, hibernate


  1. I need more soup recipes to go with the big books and the covers on the bed.

  2. I love your book suggestions. Just finished Out of Sheer Rage (and also Yoga for People Who Can't Be Bothered to Do It which is a wilder, sadder, still good) by Geoff Dyer.

    I'll have to fit this one into the list.

  3. Oh, Young Nicholas. So romantic. If only. I will now hibernate/eat soup/read. The end.



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