Why must novels never be 100% finished but only abandoned? (Yes, I just abandoned mine on a lonely hilltop, where it will survive or not.)
Why do facebook friends ceaselessly try to lure me into the real of Fritterdom?
YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE: I *know* hope springs astonishingly eternal in your breast(s), but I will never have time to play Zynga Bingo or Penguin Parade or even Words with Friends. Well, maybe when I'm hyper-old if utterly deserted by the muse (stay with me, lovely Muse!) Till then, it's words and friends, not Words with Friends.
It's a puzzle. Gentle academics everywhere are torn between wanting to condemn the man and wanting to keep their day off from work.
Proposal: How about we celebrate Brendan the Navigator Day? In his travels he encountered all sorts of wonders--the crystal tower that must have been an iceberg, the precincts of hell (volcanic eruptions in Iceland), and what many have said must have been Florida! He appears to have been peaceful and good and brave and modest.
Why does the shutdown of the government by two very silly parties have to mean that we totally forget about the rest of the planet? Hordes of people butchered at church and elsewhere, Syrians to mourn and bewail, Kenyans threatened again: is the human head that flighty?
Why does one person on an airplane go in the lavatory to recreate Flemish portraits with napkins and seat covers and neck pillows, while another has nothing but destruction and havoc and death in his mind? (I want to play with toilet paper with Nina Katchadourian!) Why is one person a poet, and the other a terrorist who kills him in a mall where you can only go home free if you can name of the Prophet's mother?
When ten lepers are cured, why does only one say thank you?