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Entry tags:
- dwj,
- history,
- papuwa,
- reading_25,
- rl_25
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October is my favourite month and it's drawing near the end. Rain and wind, tomorrow and Friday, will put an end to most of the gorgeous colours: the yellow whatever across the street that glows so beautifully under the street lamp has lost half its leaves already. The gorious red maple out back will soon follow. And then comes the darkness, early this year: November 2nd. So sad to see them go, even if November does have its moments.
Read through a bunch of Papuwa doujinshi yesterday prior to tomorrow's recycle pick up, which left me with the usual weird hangover. Is it the trip to a former mindset, the mental time travel, that causes the oogies? The counsel of the dead is not profitable to the living, even if it's one's own dead self. But I only had three or four djs to throw out after that and I don't want to waste a recycle day, so I went through the many bags I have stashed in a wicker chest, found the Saiyūki ones, and threw them out unread. There was a great falling off in talent between 1993 and 2001 as far as I'm concerned so I regret nothing. But the idea of doing that with the Papuwa ones is unthinkable. I must reread them all: they hold a portion of my soul.
Finished since last week are Cinder House, House of Many Ways, and Castle in the Sky. One Charles Lenox, An Extravagant Death, and two by John Rhode/ Miles Burton, Death at Breakfast and The Secret of High Eldersham. The last of which was just a tad silly. The Badnasty has been feeding the villagers drugs at regular intervals for several years and manipulating them with mental games. Badnasty is disposed of. Detective says villagers will be fine now. I say villagers will be anything but. Detective would be a fool to settle down in High Eldersham but does, of course. And acquires a wife who, in subsequent books, must go on many visits to friends so detective can continue to detect.
I have another Lenox in ebook and a couple more Burtons on Kobo if they will consent to show. Neither my Kobo Burtons or Rhodes wil display on my phone. I should forge on with that biography of Da Vinci except the author wants to talk about Freud's ideas of Da Vinci instead, even as he admits Freud was working from a mistranslation of the Italian and was therefore All Wrong.
Read through a bunch of Papuwa doujinshi yesterday prior to tomorrow's recycle pick up, which left me with the usual weird hangover. Is it the trip to a former mindset, the mental time travel, that causes the oogies? The counsel of the dead is not profitable to the living, even if it's one's own dead self. But I only had three or four djs to throw out after that and I don't want to waste a recycle day, so I went through the many bags I have stashed in a wicker chest, found the Saiyūki ones, and threw them out unread. There was a great falling off in talent between 1993 and 2001 as far as I'm concerned so I regret nothing. But the idea of doing that with the Papuwa ones is unthinkable. I must reread them all: they hold a portion of my soul.
Finished since last week are Cinder House, House of Many Ways, and Castle in the Sky. One Charles Lenox, An Extravagant Death, and two by John Rhode/ Miles Burton, Death at Breakfast and The Secret of High Eldersham. The last of which was just a tad silly. The Badnasty has been feeding the villagers drugs at regular intervals for several years and manipulating them with mental games. Badnasty is disposed of. Detective says villagers will be fine now. I say villagers will be anything but. Detective would be a fool to settle down in High Eldersham but does, of course. And acquires a wife who, in subsequent books, must go on many visits to friends so detective can continue to detect.
I have another Lenox in ebook and a couple more Burtons on Kobo if they will consent to show. Neither my Kobo Burtons or Rhodes wil display on my phone. I should forge on with that biography of Da Vinci except the author wants to talk about Freud's ideas of Da Vinci instead, even as he admits Freud was working from a mistranslation of the Italian and was therefore All Wrong.