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The Lamas Learn About Valentine's Day
Feb. 7th, 2019 10:07 amThe lamas did not like Valentines Day as much as Martin Luther King Day.
I went to the Dollar Store and bought them a bunch of Valentines Day paraphernalia for show and tell—those chalky little hearts stamped with corny sayings like Be True and Miss You; a card illustrated with red roses and blue violets; a bouquet of striped red and pink balloons.
Tsering picked up the tiny heart that said Be True, puzzled out the letters, stared at it with an utter lack of comprehension. What did truth have to do with cheap candy?
I couldn’t enlighten him.
I’d whipped up a silly reading exercise: Valentine lived in ancient Rome. He was a Christian. He made the blind daughter of Judge Asterius see again. Then Emperor Claudius had him executed.
“Yes,” Norbu said, “but what does this have to do with that?” He gestured at the balloons.
Raise your hand if you know the answer.
###
Items on the never-ending To Do list are snowballing. I’m too… [Multiple choice question: Fill in the blank! Depressed! Lazy! Disaffected!] to deal with them.
Really, I’m like the nameless protagonist in My Year of Rest and Relaxation. If I could sleep for a year, I would, although Mizz Nameless’s casual dalliances with various high-ranking members of the pharmacological pantheon appall me: I don’t much like downers. But I do like sleep, always have, and when I used to read interviews with industry movers and shakers like Hugh Hefner, Steve Jobs, Elon Musk, who boasted of only sleeping four hours a night, I would think: Poor you; you are wasting your life!
After that one blissful, blue-sky day where temps flirted with the 70s, the weather has turned grey and cold again, more February-appropriate. I need to unearth the June manuscript and start stitching together the pieces again because goddamn it, I am going to finish it this year even if it turns out to be the most banal and uninteresting manuscript ev-ah!
And now I must at least attempt to do some remunerative work.
I went to the Dollar Store and bought them a bunch of Valentines Day paraphernalia for show and tell—those chalky little hearts stamped with corny sayings like Be True and Miss You; a card illustrated with red roses and blue violets; a bouquet of striped red and pink balloons.
Tsering picked up the tiny heart that said Be True, puzzled out the letters, stared at it with an utter lack of comprehension. What did truth have to do with cheap candy?
I couldn’t enlighten him.
I’d whipped up a silly reading exercise: Valentine lived in ancient Rome. He was a Christian. He made the blind daughter of Judge Asterius see again. Then Emperor Claudius had him executed.
“Yes,” Norbu said, “but what does this have to do with that?” He gestured at the balloons.
Raise your hand if you know the answer.
###
Items on the never-ending To Do list are snowballing. I’m too… [Multiple choice question: Fill in the blank! Depressed! Lazy! Disaffected!] to deal with them.
Really, I’m like the nameless protagonist in My Year of Rest and Relaxation. If I could sleep for a year, I would, although Mizz Nameless’s casual dalliances with various high-ranking members of the pharmacological pantheon appall me: I don’t much like downers. But I do like sleep, always have, and when I used to read interviews with industry movers and shakers like Hugh Hefner, Steve Jobs, Elon Musk, who boasted of only sleeping four hours a night, I would think: Poor you; you are wasting your life!
After that one blissful, blue-sky day where temps flirted with the 70s, the weather has turned grey and cold again, more February-appropriate. I need to unearth the June manuscript and start stitching together the pieces again because goddamn it, I am going to finish it this year even if it turns out to be the most banal and uninteresting manuscript ev-ah!
And now I must at least attempt to do some remunerative work.
