I laid my heart open to the benign indifference of the universe

Just so you're aware (not that I think you, the reader, exist), the "..." are fairly hefty exclusions:

"So I turned my head and lazily sniffed the smell of brine that Marie's head had left on the pillow. I slept until ten. After that I stayed in bed until noon, smoking cigarettes. I decided not to lunch at Celeste's restaurant as I usually did; they'd be sure to pester me with questions, and I dislike being questioned. So I fried some eggs and ate them off the pan. I did without bread as there wasn't any left, and I couldn't be bothered with going down to buy it.... A bit later, for want of anything better to do, I picked up an old newspaper that was lying on the floor and read it. There was an advertisement of Kruschen Salts and I cut it out and pasted it into an album where I keep things that amuse me in the papers. Then I washed my hands and, as a last resource, went out on to the balcony... After smoking a couple of cigarettes I went back to the room, got a table of chocolate, and returned to the window to eat it. Soon after, the sky clouded over, and I thought a summer storm was coming. However, the clouds gradually lifted. All the same, they had left in the street a sort of threat of rain, which made it darker. I stayed watching the sky for quite a while... Just then the street lamps came on, all together, and they made the stars that were beginning to glimmer in the night sky paler still. I felt my eyes getting tired, what with the lights and all the movement I'd been watching in the street. There was little pools of brightness under the lamps, and now and then a streetcar passed, lighting up a girl's hair, or a smile, or a silver bangle... It struck me that I'd better see about some dinner. I had been leaning so long on the back of my chair, looking down, that my neck hurt when I straightened myself up. I went down, bought some bread and spaghetti, did my cooking, and ate my meal standing. I'd intended to smoke another cigarette at my window, but the night had turned rather chilly and I decided against it. As I was coming back, after shutting the window, I glanced at the mirror and saw reflected in it a corner of my table with my spirit lamp and some bits of bread beside it. It occurred to me that somehow I'd got through another Sunday."

YES. Who hasn't had a day in which your inner monologue carries this tone? Don't worry, I won't commit a senseless murder like the character in Albert Camus's "The Stranger."

But the whole bit on the last couple pages? Totally agree with it.

yin and yang

Rembrandt is the original master of shadow and light.


I could look at The Hundred Guilder Print all day and still know I'm missing so much.

When I was looking at this one,


(Portrait of a Young Jewish Man) an elderly woman a mere two thirds my height hooked her arm into the crook of my elbow and shared, "Go closer. Look at the eyes. They look real. Absolutely marvelous." Then she smiled the most genuine smile and walked along.

Munching on my severely overpriced and not spicy enough jalapeno chips alone, I mean, independently, in the cafeteria, I knew I was probably sitting facing not an unaccompanied 60 something with a coffee and a floor plan, but a vision into the future. I have trouble deciding if this is sad or not, but am happy about it regardless.

- - - -

magical and mysterious. the warmth and light here is supplied not by the moon, but the couple.


Carnival Evening by Rousseau, I love it.

Also, I gotta say, Bonnard is so good. I am currently really feeling him and can't even pick just one to share.

milkboy

i held a jejunum today. my co-workers and I refer to this particular boy's intestinal segment as "Patrick." why?

well because it looks JUST like...


does posting a picture this accurate violate HIPAA? i foto-shopped some board shorts on the distal end to properly disguise the pinky organ's identity.