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Monday July 2, 2001
"We never live, we are always going to live." Voltaire
we have lost our video, but if it were here, it would show a barbeque joint full of the taxidermist's art
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dislocation There is nothing quite like riding to Houston in someone else's car, chatting away. Getting there, getting a plaque and saying a few words and riding back. If you stop for lunch at a barbeque joint full of dead things dressed up by taxidermists (including squirrels, wild boars), the feeling of dislocation is complete. I wouldn't have gone, but it was all about the ride with my colleague and a chance to meet with him. And it was a good meeting and he is a good, calm driver. It was plesasnt in a way. And we were back in time for me to do a little work. Another presentation due next week. I leave work in a rain storm and stop by the parents' house and, sure enough, they are home and have some company. I don't stay long. At home, I have some salmon with lemon, capers and Dijon mustard and spinach and some cheese and crackers and a drink (Jack and water). Only one drink, though. We watch some reruns and some Wimbledon and I struggle with the NY Times crossword. And it's only Monday. I feel very sleepy for some reason.
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