The Don Quixote Deathmarch, Week 6

And hey Presto: Week 6!, which recounts the pleasing commentary laced upon these light beams by varied marchers and the squires of same.

Nearly 300 pages in now. Lots and lots and lots to go, and yet...we're too far from shore to easily swim back. I'll confess to finding "the two friends" a tad tedious. They sorta deserve each other, at least in terms of their tediousness. And then, wouldn't ya know it, the week ends just as the madcap misadventures of the man who was recklessly curious finally start get interesting. Ah well. Reason enough to chug on.....

Next Wednesday: A few marchers errant have fallen a tad behind, so what say we go for a slightly smaller than usual leap and meet up again at the end of of Chapter XXXVI, "where all the misfortunes on earth reach their conclusion and end." I like the sound of that....

There's no use denying it any more

Wallace Shawn is Daffy Duck. (At least In The Princess Bride.)

"Inconceivable!"
-Cecil

How much?

I wonder how much time
EE Cummings spent
searching and replacing?

Because I spend a lot of time searching and replacing

and I wonder if that was a big part of his life too?

The Don Quixote Deathmarch, Week 5

And then before you know it, it's Week 5, regarding the diverting comments posted by the readers of this agreeable history.

Much sound and fury this week regarding potential casting and music for the movie. And out of that dust a clear path emerges: Melody's vision of a DQ update that we'd have to assume would be titled "Dude, Where's My Papers Promising Me Those Donkeys?"

As I mentioned along the way, I dug this week. I did. The book has really started to pick up some 400-year-old steam. 200-something pages down. 700 or so to go.... If you're a tad behind, not to worry -- just keep a goin'. There's still plenty of time to catch up on some upcoming sunny weekend afternoon.

Next Wednesday: We shake out our shoes at the end of Chapter XXXIII, one half-whisker shy of the continuation of the novel of The Man Who Was Recklessly Curious.

Vocabulary turn

After a while
they wanted to get so used to it
they'd have
a different word for each kind of rain

say, one for fine-pointed rain
that comes down
light and silky

one for thick drops where the rain is thick no matter
how few drops fall.

And then on a turn, the end of rain
and a kind of
sunlight showed up
that was also fine-pointed.
Or maybe shy. Loud yawning? It was
sunny that day.

All the puddles
preparing to hibernate.

Starfish Sucking on My Nose: The Musical

A few days ago, So-Called Bill posted a comment saying "I'll pay you five dollars to write a song called 'Starfish Sucking on My Nose.'"

Well. Never let it be said that I won't write a song called "Starfish Sucking on My Nose" for five dollars.
-Cecil

time: 24 seconds; specs: 378K
Press Play" to play.

The Don Quixote Deathmarch, Week 4

Welcome to Week 4 on ye olde deathmarche, which recounts the fierce and uncomon battle for mugnet glory waged by nineteen travelers, and other events.

Some good debate this last week on the pleasures of DQ. I'm still having a swell time with the book, though I'll confess that DQ's grand chivalric imagining (around page 159 in Grossman) did make my eyes begin to bulge. While I'm confessing, I should add that I've got Zero Mostel stuck in my head as Sancho. And not just any Zero Mostel, but a characture of Zero Mostel from some Mad Magazine parody from my youth (a Fiddler send up called "Antenna on the Roof"). I can't decide if this adds or subtracts from my reading pleasure. OK, that's a lie. It adds.

Next Wednesday: More glory! And it all leads us to the end of Chapter XXVII, as "concluded by that wise and judicious historian," ladies and gentlemen, won't you please give a warm Don Quixote Deathmarch welcome to your friend and mine, the one, the only: Senor Cide Hamete Benengeli.

So-Called Bill's One Word Review of James McTeigue's V for Vendetta

Rousing.

Sliding toward Sandy Hook

I am inclined seaward.
Tilted at my desk
with my hair
saltwater soaked.

Seaweed, of course.

There's a mussel in each ear.
and a starfish sucking on my nose.

Five equal segments hath the starfish.
No heart, nor brain, nor eyes.

And yet I find
its tube feet

with their remarkable vascular system

dragging me off into the deep.

The Don Quixote Deathmarch, Week 3

Welcome to Week 3, in which are found the disparate comments of the mug-net inclined, along with other unexpected epistles. Speaking of which, 26 people are still mug-net qualified. Jinkies!

On each of these 'marches so far, I've especially dug the end of Week 2 -- past page 100, the book starts to take hold. From last week's comments, it sounds like a lot of us were applauding Chapters 12-14, with the build up to Marcela's soliloquoy (if you prick her, does she not bleed?) followed by a shining moment for DQ: "Let no person, whatever his circumstance or condition, dare to follow the beautiful Marcela lest he fall victim to my fury and outrage." Not that she needs his help, or that anyone's even necessarily paying attention. But still, that's our Don!

And then there's Chapter XV, with what has to be my favorite line so far: "I wish I had enough breath to speak with less effort and that the pain I feel in this rib would ease just a little so that I could make clear to you, Panza, how wrong you are." If this was the '70s, I'd slap that puppy on a t-shirt, and my fortune would be made.

All in all, it's been a real treat so far, and I'm glad to have so many excellent 'marchers along for the trek.

Next Wednesday: We careen on, with vigor! Let's meet up on page 172 at the end of Chapter XXII, just before what I'm told is one of the strangest adventures recounted in this true history.

Would you like something to drink?

No
he said,
I'm topped off with liquids.

And it was like
he was bragging.