Saturday, September 4, 2021

Why I love my Kindle

 While I do still love the print version of the book, my preference for reading is on my Kindle.

It does not, of course, replace the feel or smell of a beautifully crafted book.

It's not supposed to.

But it's comfortable for me.

This post isn't an attempt to talk anyone into giving up their books and switch to a Kindle.

If you've been in my home and seen the crowded bookshelves in every room you would realize how silly that is.

But I love love love many things about my Kindle.

One is deciding at some ridiculous hour of the night that I have to read the next book in the series that I'm bingeing on.  Hit a button a voila, there it is.

Another is this feature I am crazy about.  Instant Look-up.  

For example, right now I'm reading Barbara Davis' The Keeper of Happy Endings, which  is an Amazon First Reads Book for September.  I love her books.

One of the protagonists is drinking her favorite wine; "I close my eyes as the first sip of wine goes down. Louis Jadot Gevrey-Chambertin. It’s a guilty pleasure of mine. Chocolate and ripe cherry, chalky on the tongue, velvety on the way down. Plush and pricey."

 I immediately want to know more about this Louis Jadot Gevrey-Chambertin.

So I run my cursor over it to highlight it, hit search and am rewarded with this:  

Product Description -

Louis Jadot Gevrey-Chambertin shows the qualities characteristic of the commune : deep color, with a multi-faceted berry and red fruit bouquet, a full, tannic structure and mellow texture carry into a lasting finish. This powerful and perfumed wine require elaborate and strong-tasting food : leg of mutton, boeuf bourguignon, game pâtés, strong cheeses.


VARIETAL: Pinot Noir

REGION: Gevrey Chambertin



I love that

But then, I am easily amused.  I think it comes from growing up an only child.

Friday, September 3, 2021

Is Appalachian State University a Good Neighbor?


Not in my opinion.

This is how much Appalachian State University loves us all.  They're having a concert.  A concert for 32,000 people.  Oh, maybe they actually love the money they'll be making from this concert.  A concert for 32,000 people.  Won't it be interesting to see pictures so we can see if all 32,000 people are masked?  Hahahahaha sure that's gonna happen.  I had a doctor's appointment that had me driving through The Town of Boone yesterday. It was a gorgeous day.  Lots of people shopping on King Street. Lots of tourists; families with kids. Masks?  Hahahahaha sure, as if.  Mask mandate?  Hahahaha sure, uh huh.  Let's see how many people are laughing within a few days of this COVID super spreader concert for 32,000 people. Anti-maskers and Anti-vaxxers, I wish I felt some sympathy for you, but you are too ignorant for me to waste my time on.  I'll save my sympathy for the children you're making sick or possibly killing with your stupidity and selfishness.  Enjoy the concert.

Wednesday, September 1, 2021

SEPTEMBER 1, 1939 by W.H. Auden


I sit in one of the dives

On Fifty-second Street

Uncertain and afraid

As the clever hopes expire

Of a low dishonest decade:

Waves of anger and fear

Circulate over the bright

And darkened lands of the earth,

Obsessing our private lives;

The unmentionable odour of death

Offends the September night.

Accurate scholarship can

Unearth the whole offence

From Luther until now

That has driven a culture mad,

Find what occurred at Linz,

What huge imago made

A psychopathic god:

I and the public know

What all schoolchildren learn,

Those to whom evil is done

Do evil in return.

Exiled Thucydides knew

All that a speech can say

About Democracy,

And what dictators do,

The elderly rubbish they talk

To an apathetic grave;

Analysed all in his book,

The enlightenment driven away,

The habit-forming pain,

Mismanagement and grief:

We must suffer them all again.

Into this neutral air

Where blind skyscrapers use

Their full height to proclaim

The strength of Collective Man,

Each language pours its vain

Competitive excuse:

But who can live for long

In an euphoric dream;

Out of the mirror they stare,

Imperialism's face

And the international wrong.

Faces along the bar

Cling to their average day:

The lights must never go out,

The music must always play,

All the conventions conspire

To make this fort assume

The furniture of home;

Lest we should see where we are,

Lost in a haunted wood,

Children afraid of the night

Who have never been happy or good.

The windiest militant trash

Important Persons shout

Is not so crude as our wish:

What mad Nijinsky wrote

About Diaghilev

Is true of the normal heart;

For the error bred in the bone

Of each woman and each man

Craves what it cannot have,

Not universal love

But to be loved alone.

From the conservative dark

Into the ethical life

The dense commuters come,

Repeating their morning vow;

'I will be true to the wife,

I'll concentrate more on my work,'

And helpless governors wake

To resume their compulsory game:

Who can release them now,

Who can reach the dead,

Who can speak for the dumb?

All I have is a voice

To undo the folded lie,

The romantic lie in the brain

Of the sensual man-in-the-street

And the lie of Authority

Whose buildings grope the sky:

There is no such thing as the State

And no one exists alone;

Hunger allows no choice

To the citizen or the police;

We must love one another or die.

Defenseless under the night

Our world in stupor lies;

Yet, dotted everywhere,

Ironic points of light

Flash out wherever the Just

Exchange their messages:

May I, composed like them

Of Eros and of dust,

Beleaguered by the same

Negation and despair,

Show an affirming flame.