Areas of Unrest

20 December 2000 - Too Sick to Rant

QOTD: "There is no fate that cannot be surmounted by scorn." - Albert Camus

Reading: Colin Thubron, The Lost Heart of Asia

Listening to: The Tannahill Weavers, Dancing Feet

When I told Robert about my congressman (Julian Dixon) dying after the election and how little news coverage there had been what with the whole presidential brouhaha, he mentioned that Johnny Carson had always said his great fear was to die in a plane crash with Frank Sinatra. Coincidentally, I just read that both C. S. Lewis and Aldous Huxley died on 22 November 1963. (Which is, of course, the day that JFK was assassinated.) I can't help wondering which of them would have upstaged the other were it not for American politics outranking British literature in the eyes of most of the world.

Today's celebrity death is that of John Lindsay, former mayor of New York City and significant largely as the only Republican my parents ever voted for. Actually, that isn't quite true. Years after I'd left home, they voted for Al D'Amato, but that doesn't count because it isn't like they actually believed in his politics, but he'd done my father some favors. And if you don't vote for your neighbor, what kind of world would we have? Anyway, Lindsay did eventually become a Democrat. I seem to recall he's also cited as evidence for the theory that taller men are more popular in politics than short men, though height didn't help Bill Bradley this year.

As for what I've been up to, I got the inevitable airplane related cold. So I stayed home both yesterday and today. Unfortunately, I didn't even have the energy to watch TV or read very much, so I don't have much to say. I could handle the sneezing and coughing, if I were only able to concentrate enough to do household stuff. I still have to finish writing Christmas cards, for example, and go through the end of year charity begging letter file, not to mention all of the usual filing and organizing.

I have a long list of minor rants, from my theories on urban planning (just because it's outdoors doesn't mean it isn't a shopping mall, for example) to why most TV sex scenes are so boring (hint: find some actors with chest hair, damn it!) to what constitutes a proper New York style deli (the pickles are key). But if I can't concentrate well enough to watch TV, I'm not likely to make a whole lot of sense. It's not like any of that is urgent. Well, OK, maybe I could concentrate better on TV if there were enough chest hair, or fail to concentrate in a more interesting way.

Time to heat up some chicken soup and get back into bed.