webcowgirl: (Proust quote)
I still think the idea of condensing "In Search of Lost Time" into a ten minute play suitable for stick puppets is a good idea. There is so much more to the book than cookies. It's like saying Star Wars is all about "A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away ..." And tonight [livejournal.com profile] wechsler said Proust was emotionally stunted. It's just not true!

But really, what I wanted to do was drop a quote about Proust into my journal, because I was very cheered to see that he's continuing to be relevant in modern culture. This came up in the Metro, in an article on Orhan Pamuk:

"In my memoir Istanbul I talk about the city as an index of landscapes and sentiments; we walk down the street and see objects that are registered in our memory because of our associations. This was invented by Proust and his famous madeleines in Remembrance Of Things Past. In my and Kemal’s museum virtually everything is a madeleine."

Well! Life is just a plate of cookies, eh? It's hardly deep when expressed that way, but it's cool that I understand just what he's trying to get at. And it does make Istanbul sound like an even neater city than it is. I, however, felt like I was never able to get any deeper than the surface. Still, it warms my cockles to see my beloved Marcel is still being referenced regularly.
webcowgirl: (reading is fun-damental)
I've been reading The Uncommon Reader, a book by Alan Bennet that [livejournal.com profile] booklectic led me, due to it having passages about Proust. And it has indeed been a treasure: last night's passages about Proust themed charades cracked me up. This morning I read a passage in which the lead character, being fond of horses, is being encouraged to pick up Dick Francis; her response is that Swift is good on horses. This made me crack up, too, and feel like I've done well to be continuing to read the classics so that I could get jokes like this.

Anyway, time to get on with work - I've got a lot of meetings today.
webcowgirl: (wind)
Per today's New York Times, having friends can save your life.

"Proximity and the amount of contact with a friend wasn’t associated with survival. Just having friends was protective."

"Only smoking was as important a risk factor as lack of social support."

"In the study of nurses with breast cancer, having a spouse wasn’t associated with survival."

Anyway ... it's interesting to think that it's important to physical as well as mental health.

As for me, I'm still feeling pretty weak. This is not going to be one of those staying late at work days.

My new Alain de Botton book, The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work, has shown up. I'm excited about reading it after hearing him speak earlier in the month. To quote my review: De Botton had interesting things to say about why people don’t enjoy work (”They’re not supposed to, but they think they are, so they’re dissatisfied”), why workplaces are bizarre (”They put policies in place to make sure you continue to value making money over, say, having sex with your coworkers”), what work says about us as a society (”It’s a good thing that people have jobs no one can understand, at least according to those that judge a society’s evolution by how specialized its workers can be”) and the biscuit industry (”Of all of the people at XYZ biscuit company involved in the design of the Biscuit Alpha, not a single one of them knows how to bake”).

Anyway, it was interesting enough that I went out and bought the book afterall. It's too late for me to get it autographed but, who knows, maybe he and I will sit down and have lunch today and discuss life after Proust, a topic relevant to both of us. There has to be more to life than Charlaine Harris, after all.

Also, Twittering with your mind - just the thing I think [livejournal.com profile] butterbee would be researching if she didn't hate Twitter so much!
webcowgirl: (Silent Movies)
Last night's trip to the silent movies was fairly fun. We are watching the Bird's Eye View Vamp series at the BFI, almost in its entirety, and after seeing Salome on Saturday (from whence the icon), we moved on to the originators of the Vamp role, specifically the star of the movie "The Vampire" and then Theda Barr in one of her first films, "A Fool There Was." For some reason the producers of Bird's Eye decided to have someone do a tap dancing routine in the middle of A Fool There Was, which was distracting and not slightly relevant to the narrative - as well as a bit dull (the girls reciting the poem the painting inspired was amusing, though). We decided we liked the first movie, with its light-hearted touch, better than the second movie, with its intense melodrama - but for me, I liked how "A Fool There Was" depicted what I saw as the world of Marcel Proust, brought live to my eyes, even if the story was different in the end.

The movie got out late and we only had dinner at 9 PM, at Lahore Spice, which also apparently allows you to bring your own (witness the guys splitting a large mixed grill with two cokes and a bottle of Jack Daniels sitting on the table between them). We'll be heading back to tightville after tomorrow's birthday dinner (for Cate) at Wahaca, but fortunately Indian food meals in the neighborhood don't dip too deeply in the pocket.

Tonight it's Pilates and not a whole lot else - then Thursday another silent movie (Alraune) that will end the series for us. I'd really enjoy seeing Pandora's Box on Wednesday but birthday calls!
webcowgirl: (wind)
Once again, the "years shall run [are running] like rabbits," as November has whizzed by so quickly I can almost feel the breeze in my hair. I don't know if the pace of life in London is faster than Seattle, but I feel like I'm seeing time rush by me like nobody's business. It's probably a good thing that everywhere I look I'm seeing more articles talking about how red wine is good for your health. When we get in our new place, I want to find something I really enjoy and just buy a case of it. Unfortunately we're no nearer to getting a place than we were last week, as the only place we liked has rented and the place we saw this morning was TINY and had the main bedroom facing a fairly busy street. I really, really want to move to a place where I can get a decent night's sleep, and not just because I've been hitting the wine stash.

I blew further of my precious time last night writing up my review of Infra and the other pieces we saw at the ballet Wednesday night. It's not as detailed as I would have liked, but I wanted to actually get some sleep last night and not stay up writing until 11:30 like I do sometimes. With so many shows coming up, I have to keep my energy levels high.

The visit with my uncle is going well so far - my only regret is that I haven't been spending nearly as much time visiting with him as I would like. We went to the Dickens museum yesterday, and while it was a bit interesting, it just didn't really resonate with me like it would have if it had been about Proust. I mean, I think Dickens is a pretty crap author, really, but I do really value his work on behalf of the poor (far more than his writing). And the museum was incredibly cold. Still, it was two hours with Frank, and his choice over the Foundling museum, so not such a bad way to burn an afternoon. And Thanksgiving with many members of the old Tripadelic gang was great - made me want to come back home to roost! (Also, roasted garlic gravy recipe - vegetarian but not vegan. Oh well.)

That said, I've got a full day at work ahead of me ... whch I need to somehow fit into the time remaining (the house hunting slowed down the start of my work day). Off I go - with Autumn: Osage County waiting at the end of my day. Yay!
webcowgirl: (ProustSwirly)
Well, only two years after I started, I've finished all of Remembrance of Things Past (better called In Search of Lost Time) as I reached the big "The End" on page 358 of Time Regained. He spent the last 15-20 pages talking about how he was afraid he'd die before he finished his life work, and I was feeling like I was cheering him on as he was trying to race against his own bad health to get to the finish line. "You can do it, Marcel! In fact, you did it! We're all here waiting for you -- just a few more steps!"

It's really been a great read - I can't say it's changed my life, but in many ways it's changed how I perceived thing, and not just because I get jokes about madeleines, insomnia,and cork-lined rooms. The best bit has been this appreciation of really intense moments of timelessness, when everything around me comes together and I feel both so alive and so entirely out of time, like the things that are happening to me have always happen and will continue to happen and I'm just experiencing a tiny, perfect, repeatable moment in the endless sea of Time. Skies will cloud over, spring flowers will fade and fall, even I will be gone one day, but a perfect day in spring, or autumn, or summer, or winter, they will all happen again and in experiencing one perfect instant of them I am, in effect, experiencing them all. I know this sounds like some pretty serious hippie shit, but it does happen to me and it's Proust that made me recognize them (plus my sum total of other life experiences all welling up at the same time).

Sadly I haven't had any moments like this recently - they happen when they happen (and require a full dose of Be Here Now, which is sometimes in short supply for me). Instead I'll mention the rest of my day, as boring in its minutiae as ever, but an ongoing accretion of Things That Make Me Me.

1. Today's lesson: be aware of when the time changes are going to happen and make sure you set your alarm clock properly if you're travelling on that day. If this had been the spring changeover, I would have been screwed this morning. Instead, I got up too early (and yet still barely made it to the airport on time, no thanks to the Time Out guides shit transpo maps and poor information about getting to the airport).

2. Yummy new food item: "Secreto Catalan" (I think), which is a cut of pork from the back of the pig's neck - very buttery and soft. Incorrectly named food item: "Ensalada Fantasia," as my fantasies never involve a food item covered with thin slices of raw salmon. Yuck.

3. The flamenco concert was a lot of fun. El Capullo de Jerez was J's favorite of the evening, and likely mine (the other singer being Remedios Amaya, video of the two of them performing here, only when the egotistical "El Farruco," a dancer who was reminding me of a cross between Liberace and Michael Jackson, got his 10 year old son out there to cut the rug with him, I was so stupendously moved by his skill at such a young age (plus the whole "mini-me" thing going on, I kept laughing) that I stood up and cheered - with the rest of the Barcelonans. That said, listening to Capullo de Jerez singing these old songs with this backdrop of these creepy Art Nouveau maidens coming out of the walls behind him in the Palau de Musica was really something - it's like the ghosts were listening to him perform.

We brought home three bottles of booze, two bottles of cider, three bottles of wine, two new handpainted earthenware bowls for serving food in, and three packages of tea, so it was a pretty good haul for a weekend, and it was a nice and fairly relaxing time. We got in early (noon) and I've managed to not just get home but also get up the street to meet [livejournal.com profile] wechsler's sister (husband and baby too). Now I'm roasting up a chicken and I am hungry! There may have been a time change but my stomach thinks it's time to eat now. At least the cat is happy to have us home again.
webcowgirl: (Morpheus)
If you ignore the food poisoning, there's one great thing I can say about the last week and a half: I have been sleeping like a rock. Actually, I even slept great in Italy, probably because I was walking myself to a state of exhaustion daily, but there was only one day when I spent my night worrying about us not getting somewhere on time and lost sleep because of this. So every day I've felt in good shape in regards to my sleep level - a nice change from normal.

I've also been drinking a lot of red wine during this period of time. I wonder if there's a connection?

Proust is at page 309 - in good shape for me to complete the book(s) before the end of the month, I think. I just finished a section about a famous actress (sort of a Sarah Bernhardt) having a tea party that no one could bother to attend because they were off to see The Next Big Thing. The actress herself is dying and working herself into a quicker grave to take care of her daughter, who doesn't appreciate it. The whole thing seemed like a kind of death watch for the entire social order he's documented in his series of books, and I found it kind of funny to read, almost as much as reading about the granny who took the deaths of any of her aquaintances as being sort of a win for her. "Hah! Outlives old Solange after all. That'll show her!"

For fun I've been reading Stross' The Jennifer Morgue (at home, a gift from [livejournal.com profile] topbit) and Fforde's The Fourth Bear (at the gym), where the lead character has just bought a horrible car from Dorian Grey - it has a portrait of itself in the trunk. Stross is into heavy James Bond paralleling right now, so I'll probably recommend this to J when I'm done.
webcowgirl: (Jizo)
Wow, I lost four pounds in 24 hours. What a joy.

I just had a little dinner of some rice soup with an egg whipped into it.

Being on the computer seems like hard work right now, even just watching YouTube. I think I'll lie down and see if I can find a position where I have enough light to read.

I'm at page 280 with Proust and he is being amazed by how much social circles can change over time. I should be done soon, but not tonight.
webcowgirl: (I Miss America)
I'm curious - what do you think? Should Congress have passed the bailout or not passed it? Is it a good thing for the world economy? Is it just guaranteeing the demise of America as a superpower - er, either the passing of the bill or the non-passing?

Is it just staving off the inevitable?

What do you think?

In other news, I want new tea balls (I like the 1 1/2 inch size ball only, and they're hard to find), and I had to rebook Uffizi tickets (the first place was going to have us there in the morning after I'd specifically requested the afternoon). I'm a bit worried that there's something to do for the trip that I've forgotten (combo ticket for Colosseum and Palatine Hill?) I also stayed up late finishing my latest Charlaine Harris mystery (A Bone to Pick), and I did correctly guess the murderer! It was a fun book to read. Now I'm going to crack down on the Proust (I'm at page 255 of Time Regained, in the middle of a long and unflattering discussion of aging) - I have just more than a hundred pages to go and I want to have this finished by the end of the month. Oddly, I think I just might be done by Friday ...
webcowgirl: (ProustSwirly)
Book Meme
* Grab the nearest book.
* Open the book to page 56.
* Find the fifth sentence.
* Post the text of the next few sentences in your journal.
* Don't dig for your favorite book, the cool book, or the intellectual one: pick the CLOSEST.

And why not. This from my gym book (not that I've been in a week):

"He usually violently ingratiates himself into someone's house or flat and stays there for as long as he thinks he can. His 'hosts' generally don't survive the visitation, although he always makes a point of paying for any food he eats, does the laundry and then wallpapers the front room."

"Pattern or plain?"

"Pattern - and lined, too."
(Jasper Fforde, The Fourth Bear, talking about the Gingerbread Man, I think.)

Alternate (from Time Regained, about WWI draft dodgers):

"But he tried at least to extract in advance from this total and immediate victory anything likely to cause suffering to Francoise. 'It could easily get very nasty, because it seems that lots of them don't want to go, lads of sixteen in tears.'"

Still sick but strongly hoping I'll be all better in a day or so. I feel like the cold has been making me look a bit transparent - my skin has been glossy and my bones are peeking a bit more through my face than normal.
webcowgirl: (ProustSwirly)
First, there's a three day event this weekend, "The Big Draw," taking place at the Wellcome Collection and other sites, that I'm pretty excited about.

The website says, "Drawing on Life' is a free interactive festival celebrating drawing and life, with leading artists and scientists, in a jam-packed programme of events and activities exploring what it means to be human."

Doesn't that sound like fun? I'm especially interested in "Paper Diseases: the Little Theatre of Disease and Desire presents a theatre of bodies, bones and operations; a stage on which diseases perform, where quack doctors and grave-robbers play the hero and bodies are excavated, dissected, investigated, formed and re-formed through drawings, animations and paper cut-outs." "Snails in Art, the Art of Snails and the Joy of Camouflage" and "Deadly Pretty Things" (aka draw your own flow-in-the-dark disease) also sound like fun.

I can really only go on Saturday due to plans on Sunday and, er, work on Friday. Does this sound interesting to anyone else?

Second, this quote from Proust is perfect for autumn: "The patches of white in beards hitherto entirely black rendered the human landscape of the party somewhat melancholy, like the first yellow leaves on the trees when one is still thinking one can count on a long summer, when before one has started to enjoy it one sees it has already turned to autumn." (Finding Time Again p. 235.)
webcowgirl: (ProustSwirly)
I had this bizarre insight on Monday that Time Regained is kind of like Proust's version of the Phantom Menace. You kind of know how it's all going to end (ooh, is he going to become a writer?) and (so far) everything seems really anticlimactic. All of his best moments have already happened and he's already said his goodbyes (in The Fugitive, the last book he actually wrote). It's very much, "Well, I suppose we have to get through this bit in order for the "real" story to happen" - only PM was a total piece of poo and this isn't THAT bad. It's just ... not as good as what preceded it.

I have also seen the height of Proust's writing powers already, in the increasingly better-written novels that were done after Time Regained was written (I think these are three books, the ones all about Albertine - it's a bit of a shock to go back to mid-career Proust after reading the end of career stuff), and, to me, the actual climax of the series was in the last book, when the narrator goes to Venice, the thing that's been his dream since early, early in the book, when his health and nervous temperament kept him from travelling. So now, he's back in Paris, and, to me, nothing seems the same. Everyone's older, time has marched on ... and while I've enjoyed listening to Proust go on about writing and the value of art (and the value of life to art), I just feel like I'm spending a really long time watching someone slowly expire on a stage while finishing their death arie. At any rate, I'm at page 234 of Finding Time Again, and I've got 124 pages left. My goal is to finish the book in October, meaning it will have taken me two years to have finished it (post on buying it here, post on starting it here). That seems reasonable enough to me, though I really had no idea what I was getting into when I started.
webcowgirl: (Proust quote)
Proust: I'm at page 204 of Time Regained. He's been on a long rant about the value of art, which I think will ultimately lead to him beginning to write his novel. Last night I was reading a bit that, I'm pretty sure, said if you didn't try to express the impressions of the art you've seen/heard/watched, you hadn't actually accomplished anything by experiencing it. I liked that.

Heart: 163/92 this morning, horrid, horrid. I expect the stress at work yesterday kicked it up. (Really, I don't just avoid unpleasant people and situations because I'm a wimp; it seems to negatively affect my health.)
webcowgirl: (ProustSwirly)
For months I've been yearning to put this quote in my journal, but couldn't because my copy of How Proust Can Change Your Life (by Alain de Botton, whom I can apparently pay to have lunch with me via the "School of Life's" hire an expert program - and since no one else I know is going to talk about this book with me, why not him?). It's the best insight on life I've had (well, received) over the last year, and I think it is good enough to share with the world. I mean, I'm in my 40s now, what more do I need to learn about how people behave? But among all of the subjects I have studied, this has been the one I have found most tricky: what makes people work, and how do you form and keep friends. De Botton provides this illumination, as distilled from A La Recherche Du Temps Perdu, on the degree of insincerity that friendship demands:

"There seems a gap between what others need to hear from us in order to trust that we like them, and the extent of the negative thoughts we know we can feel toward them and still like them. We know it is possible to think of someone as both dismal at poetry and perceptive, both inclined to pomposity and charming, both suffering from halitosis and genial. But the susceptibility of others means that the negative part of the equation can rarely be expressed without jeopardizing the union. We usually believe gossip about ourselves to have been inspired by a level of malice far greater (or more critical) than the malice we ourselves felt in relation to the last person we gossiped about, a person whose habits we could mock without this in any way altering our affection for them."

This has been the thing I've learned: people actually have extremely fragile self-images, especially with regard to their friends and how they see them. It's most certainly true for me, and I've seen plenty of proof of it being true of others. It's been a surprise to realize that the normal teasing I do could actually wound someone quite deeply, but it's also been good for me to realize that people can mock me (or quite sincerely criticize me) but still hold deep and strong affection for me. And I've also realized it's completely natural for me to be quite wounded when I've found out how poor people's opinions are of me - but now I have a bit more perspective about how the hurt I feel magnifies my interpretation of the poorness of their opinions. I'm just a little creampuff, but in some ways, we all are.

A bit more from the book. )

I love Mr. de Botton's bio on the School of Life website: "Alain has spent years poring over Proust’ letters, essays and fiction not in order to gain a PhD on a new interpretation of some minor character from In Search of Lost Time, but in order to share with us all the power of literature to change our lives." That's why his book is awesome. Maybe if we have lunch together he can help me figure out how to take my passion and do something interesting with it, because I certainly could care less about the dull regurgitations other people have produced ont the topic.
webcowgirl: (Proust quote)
It's kind of sunny outside and it looks like a nice day to do things. I've actually got a vacation day today to spend with my houseguest, but I may not actually be needed. I'll find out pretty soon. I'm awfully down so if today isn't going to work out, I'll probably go back to work - I'm not in good shape for staying at home, especially since the building's water is off today while they replace some pipes.

I'm at page 182 of Time Regained. The narrator is trying to work out a certain feeling of timelessness and figure out what it components are. It's interesting - I feel this book really shows a less mature writing style than The Fugitive, which, sequentially, was written after this one (and was also the last thing he wrote). He's talking about remembering things he wrote about in the last novel, but the way he wrote about experiencing them was so much better than his description of remembering them.

I get the feeling I'm holding off finishing the book because I don't want to be done with it. My two co-readers, [livejournal.com profile] nhw and [livejournal.com profile] emmarytz, have already finished (though [livejournal.com profile] emmarytz skipped a few pages, if I'm not mistaken). If middle age is realizing you're never going to read Remembrance, is finishing it the mark of middle age? Or maybe I've just been seriously distracted by my other books. Accelerando has been fantastic, and the Charlaine Harris mysteries are great.

I am going to write a long quote from How Proust Can Change Your Life, but it's going to keep my day from starting if I type for half an hour, and as I've already been up for a good hour I need to make up my mind about what I'm going to do and do it. But really - what a Proustian conundrum to be in! I can't do things if I write, and if I write I can't do things, so I'm paralyzed with indecision. This would of course imply the correct next move is to go back to bed.
webcowgirl: (Default)
I think my reading has been slow, doubtlessly thanks to getting caught up in The Atrocity Archives, a Charlaine Harris book (Shakespeare's Champion), and Saratoga Swimmer. That said, I'm at page 142 of Finding Time Again, in which the narrator is discussing the way bombing raids make people unafraid of acting in keeping with their desires as they are no longer concerned about their reputations. That, I think, has not changed much over time.

I'm a bit worn out today but back at work, and my little fever of last night appears to have burnt itself right up.

This week: dinner with [livejournal.com profile] wechsler tonight, possibly again tomorrow (or maybe I'll get my hair done), Matthew Bourne's Portrait of Dorian Grey on Wednesday, then [livejournal.com profile] tonyawinter arrives Thursday for a week long visit. I'm excited!
webcowgirl: (Default)
So I read today (on the way back home, on the train) that they're filming A la Recherche du Temps Perdu ... in France ... on September 27th ... and I could be a part of it if only I could be there.

Let's be clear. According to the article I read (from The Guardian), they're filming people reading the book (in French, I assume) and broadcasting it live over the internet.

I know this sounds like the saddest, geekiest thing ever, but I got so excited reading about it and I REALLY want to be there.

*sigh*

I mean, it will be like a big Proust convention! With other fans! We can do Narrator On Saint Loup slash! (Or, who knows, maybe that happens in the last book anyway.) On the internet!

Anyway, I was bouncing up and down in my chair and squealing, and someone out there will be excited about it. And if nothing else, the article does include a list of Proust movies I can watch later.

Oh, and I bought a copy of Pinter's Remembrance script today at the Oxfam, and chatted about Faulkner to the woman behind the counter, before heading to the Eagle to meet J. Now I'm full of tacos and feeling unmotivated.

SHORTLY THEREAFTER: Hmm, found her website and volunteered to read for her movie of all seven volumes ... perhaps she'll let me.

EVEN MORE SHORTLY THEREAFTER: What was there before cat macros? Why, taping bacon to the cat, of course.
webcowgirl: (Morning cuppa)
Dammit, I forgot to bring my phone with me today. This is what I get for looking at pictures on it this morning instead of, say, dropping it in my bag.

[livejournal.com profile] rosamicula, we're still on for the concert this afternoon (1 PM, Cadogan Hall, Jordi Savall). [livejournal.com profile] spikeylady, I have my suit and am ready to swim this evening - it's at 7:15 now, right? I'll plan to be at yours no later than 6:50. Both of you, I'll email you my work number so you can contact me as I don't have your phone numbers or anything to confirm stuff.

In a pretense of content, I'll say that I finished my Jo Clayton book (The Snares of Ibex) this morning and got back to Proust, where I'm at page 77 and the narrator has just run into Mr. Charlus on the streets of wartime Paris, where (he suspects) Mr. Charlus is out cruising. It's so bizarre to think of gay guys cruising in the Edwardian era, but I suppose it happened. With luck I may update my theater blog with my review of West Side Story - somehow the weekend slipped away and I wound up spending almost no time at all on the computer. Who'da thunk it?
webcowgirl: (Default)
Man, I can barely cross my legs after yesterday, and even walking is a bit of an effort.

That said, Time Regained is at page 39. The narrator has spent a bit of time talking about World War I, which is really odd given that the entire rest of the novel (all six books) has seemed nearly removed from history other than the Dreyfus affair (which was only really dealt with insofar as it made it difficult to create a invite list to a party). The discussion is focused on what people are wearing and what people are talking about at parties, however, so it still fits in with the rest of the novel, except insofar as it's now got such a particular date associated with the events that are being described that it's like someone has used a pushpin to attach the novel to a history chart.

I dreamed last night that [livejournal.com profile] shadowdaddy had misread the terms of our lease and decided we were moving. I came home and all sorts of our old friends (i.e. [livejournal.com profile] sallysimpleton and others) were putting things into boxes and the living room was already two thirds cleared out. I had to shoo everyone away and explain to J that we still had two months before we had to move, and since we had to pay rent during this time, we might as well stay. I was sad about leaving our place, though - where could we move that would allow me so much time to daydream? That said, I'm irritated about another £70 rise in our rent and wonder if we should look at a different apartment. A one bedroom would make a LOT of difference in our monthly rent output.

LATER: I was chatting with [livejournal.com profile] silkyraven yesterday about American culture, specifically the "pot luck" (versus having dinner parties), and I mentioned how people at really big events were a bit competitive about who would have their food finished first. What I forgot to mention was the parallel track of entering your food to be judged in the county fair. I used to do this, and brought home many ribbons for my cookies (and sometimes for my cakes) in my division. I'd do it again if I could. At any rate, fun article about this in the New York Times today (in Marquette, Michigan, of all places, long time home of [livejournal.com profile] shadowdaddy's younger uncle) - read it! "In judging the fair’s baked goods over the last decade, she has demonstrated almost supernatural abilities, as if she can detect margarine in your banana bread by sight." Oh yeah!
webcowgirl: (Default)
I have got this idea for doing some Proust cat macros.

After receiving this blast of inspiration, I went in search of "cat with cookie," and found this article, which made me 1) want a new user icon 2) hungry 3) die of Teh Cute.

Can you think of some great literary LOLs? I am imagining, "I had a madeleine - but I eated it."

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