Any idiot can face a crisis - it's day to day living that wears you out.- Anton Chekhov
How very true!
Hi Frank. Judith suggested i visit here. I'm a bit wary in case you turn out to be so sensitive that the smallest word of disagreement causes a war. However, she tells me that that won't happen here. Maybe your blog is not your home-what with settees and extensions and all.You would know this anyway, but not long before her death, when Ted had left and everything was terrible, Sylvia Plath said almost the same thing. Probably it was almost a direct quote since she had read everything. It's true too. I'm not saying it's easy when bad things happen, but when everyone is rallying around you and telling you how strong you are, well, it's better medicine than discovering that your electricity is about to be disconnected, your dog is pregnant and you have a bad case of hives. It's hard to rise to THOSE occasions with any dignity (but maybe we do :) (Want a puppy?)
I'd love a puppy, but this city neighborhood is really no place for a dog (so Debbie and I have concluded). I agree with all that you say and Judith is right: I am not overly sensitive. In fact, I am an insensitive lout.
Jo, don't believe him for one moment; he is not an insensitive lout at all; he just likes to say that because he thinks if he says it long and loutly enough, others will think him an insensitive lout and leave him alone. No poet, by definition, bears the burden of adding "insensitive lout" to their list of disattributes. OTOH, he fights fiercely and could lay out a youngster half his age in no seconds flat.And, I am sure you were not thanking Him that Frank was an insensitive lout; rather, that he didn't mind if you expressed your opinion with the caveat it belonged to you (or, you owned it).Books, Inq.'s a fine blog, perhaps the finest, IMO. It possesses a wonderful history; and, of course, a solid future. Prolly because Frank ain't over-sensitive, it thrives. BUT, he cannot lay claim to either "insensitive" or "lout."Sorry, Frank (or, I am not calling you a liar; rather, you're simply a guy's guy with the exception you love Brel and no insensitive lout I know would admit to such a passion).
Curses! Foiled again!