I have a tale of woe to tell, my friends. I occasionally get e-mails from people who liked my site (this isn’t the woeful part), and I got one the other night asking me why why site was down. Now, I never update my site anymore, so I didn’t even know it *was* down, but I checked it out. It turns out that my site is GONE. Not just semi-gone or partially vanished, no no. GONE. My free host had switched their server and in the process completely wiped the old one, and didn’t give me any notice. So, I was lamenting this sad fact and e-mailing everyone back who was asking about it, when lo and behold, one of my “fans” (can I even call them that?) told me that they had saved some big chunks of my site! Hooray for similarly obsessed people! So, I haven’t lost everything. Anyway, I’m rebuilding, and it will be better than ever! If I ever get time to work on it, that is. Work is going to keep me horrendously busy for the next two weeks. But that’s ok because I need money!

Yesterday I made the voyage to the library and came back with all sorts o’ loot. I’m reading Life of Pi by Yann Martel right now, and thus far it is quite grand! Here, let me quote some.


“I was at the Indian Coffee House, on Nehru Street. It’s one big room with green walls and a high ceiling. Fans whirl about you to keep the warm, humid air moving. The place is furnished to capacity with identical square tables, each with its complement of four chairs. You sit where you can, with whoever is at a table. The coffee is good and they serve French toast. Conversation is easy to come by. And so, a spry, bright-eyed elderly gentleman with great shocks of pure white hair was talking ot me. I confirmed to him that Canada was cold and that French was indeed spoken in parts of it and that I liked India and so on and so forth – the usual light talk between friendly, curious Indians and foreign backpackers. He took in my line of work with a widening of the eyes and a nodding of the head. It was time to go. I had my hand up, trying to catch my waiter’s eye to get the bill.

Then the elderly man said, “I have a story that will make you believe in God.”

I stopped waving my hand. But I was suspicious. Was this a Jehovah’s Witness knocking at my door? “Does your story take place two thousand years ago in a remote corner of the Roman Empire?” I asked.

“No.”

Was he some sort of Muslim evangelist? “Does it take place in seventh-century Arabia?”

“No, no. It starts right here in Pondicherry just a few years back, and it ends, I am delighted to tell you, in the very country you come from.”

“And it will make me believe in God?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a tall order.”

“Not so tall that you can’t reach it.”

AND, that’s just part of the introduction! It’s not even part of the book! It’s great, I tell you!

At the library, I saw the cutest copy of War and Peace ever. “Cute” is not normally a word one would associate with War and Peace, but this copy was definitely cute. It was about 7 inches high and 5 inches across and about 3 inches thick. It also had the thinnest pages and smallest print I’ve ever seen, except maybe in some Bibles. I was sorely, sorely tempted to get it, but I already had Anna Karenina and 14 other books, including Life of Pi, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to finish all that, plus I was already at the book limit. But there will come a day…

Whenever I get back from the library, I lay out all of my books on my bed so that I can none of them are touching any of the others. Sometimes they would cover my whole bed and I’d have to move to the floor, but that was with a higher book limit. Then I look at them all lovingly and decide the order I want to read them in. I usually start with the lighter reading and move towards the heavier, but it depends on the book and my mood. I hate to get bogged down in a book that has to be read slowly when I have quick books waiting, though. Then I line them up on my desk in the order I want to read them, and read at least the first page of the first book. I have done this ever since the first time I can remember going to the library, and I have no idea why.

Speaking of books, I believe I forgot to mention that I did finish Corpus Poeticum Boreale, volume 1. I didn’t grab volume 2 yesterday since I was more in a Russian mood, but I have to say I enjoyed volume 1. I think some of my co-workers think I’m terribly strange now for reading it during my lunch, but these things happen.

I’ve been all restless and insomniacal lately, and sure enough, tonight’s the full moon. It’s nothing so creepy, don’t worry, I think it’s just that it’s too bright to sleep or something. It happens all the time at home, and the moon is always shining in my window. Isn’t there some kids’ book about turning off the moon or something? If not, there should be. Anyway! As a result of sleeping lightly, I usually get crazy-cool dreams…

I was preparing to ride several different animals for some very noble reason which is too fuzzy now to articulate properly. But it had to be done for some important reason. The first critter I had to ride successfully, rodeo-style, was a very large rhinocerous. Now, most rhinocerouses are rather portly and short-sighted, and while yes, very dangerous, they don’t really seem like a rodeo animal, if you know what I mean. This one was taller and leaner and had bigger eyes and was quite rangy and wild and almost black. He was in a rodeo pen, and there were a few people watching, though they were pretty secondary and my dreamself didn’t really notice them. I was sizing the behemoth up, trying to figure out my strategy. I wonder if it would actually work with a real rhinocerous…I’m tempted to try it, except, I’d die. Anyway, I had it all worked out how I only had to stay on 8-10 seconds to accomplish my goal, and then I could dismount. I figured out the best way to do that and had the exact details of my flying leap to the safety fence all planned out, when Dad (he was the other main character in the dream) pointed out that I was wearing shorts and my hiking sandals, which wasn’t really proper rhinocerous-wrangling attire. At first I was going to try it anyway, but realized the rhinocerous hide would scrape my legs up, so I ran and changed, then came back. The rhinocerous was really wide, it felt like riding a huge draft horse (and draft horses are already huge). It was cool, but felt very dangerous and I barely stayed on long enough before he pretty much threw me off rather than me jumping off. I hit the ground, rolled once or twice, and bolted for the gate as he came charging after me. I jumped to the second rung of the (fortunately metal) fence and swung over the last rung. This fence was VERY sturdy and about 6 feet high, so I landed pretty hard on the other side just as the rhinocerous hit the fence. He dented it a little, but it was cool. I wasn’t feeling terribly victorious because I still had to ride two other critters, one a huge (and I do mean huge, he was as big as the rhinocerous) black stallion, and after that a gigantic black bull. Only the other animals were in two separate places, and we had to do some extensive hiking to get to the first spot. Dad and I set off through some very thick bamboo in some swampy, low areas. We were cutting straight across country on foot instead of driving there by highway, I’m not sure why. There seemed to be some element of secrecy to this whole rodeo thing, we had to keep it quiet for some unrecalled reason. We came up out of the low spot and crossed the highway into some more brush before stumbling across someone’s house. They had left their garage door open, which was somehow significant. We chatted with the woman who lived there, who had been quite shocked to see us emerge from the bamboo because it was so thick. Then we continued on our way and crossed some railroad tracks and were just approaching the place where I had to ride the giant black horse when I, alas, woke up.

I really need some new icons. And a mood theme. But not tonight, because I’m tired.

Advertisements