Rest easy


It is Sunday, and the long-sought link between Nabokov and Snoop Dogg has been found:

“The sun made its usual round of the house as the afternoon ripened into evening. I had a drink. And another. And yet another. Gin and pineapple juice, my favorite mixture, always double my energy.”

—HH, Lolita, 2nd Vintage edition, 1997. Page 72


“Well, well, well, well, well; of all colics, save me from the melloncolics; green melons is the greenest thing!”

—Herman Melville, Pierre


happy memorial day bbq weekend


The man behind me on the train says

(to his cellphone):

"I got a little bent out of shape. I brushed it off. Can you brush it off? What difference does it make? What difference does it make? Really think about that. What difference does it make."


Oh dear friends

I cannot tell you how keenly sad I felt when the moon had passed to the other side of the sun and, though the earth had been transformed—subtly and perfectly transformed, shadows blurred and twisted into curves, the sunlight rendered almost green or maybe orange and somehow bright and dark at once—it became itself again and the shadows were again sharp-edged and straight and the light was again just light, the dark just dark, the space where light was not.