thoughtcrumbs : january 2000

Joie de vivre

My europe photos are now up.

An apology

To the person with whom I had dinner last night: I'm sorry I forgot to ask whether you liked goat cheese. It was very cute the way you hid it under the lettuce.

Spiritual Safety Tip: What should you do if you find an atheist?

"If you find an atheist in your neighborhood, TELL A PARENT OR PASTOR RIGHT AWAY!

You may be moved to try and witness to these poor lost souls yourself, however AVOID TALKING TO THEM! Atheists are often very grumpy and bitter and will lash out at children or they may even try to trick you into neglecting God's Word.

Very advanced witnessing techniques are needed for these grouches. Let the adults handle them."

From Objective Christian Ministries 4 Kidz. (Also see their fascinating online store. Read the description for the Zounds Abstinence Shorts and the Ruby Matrimony Thong.)

Fiction

In erstwhile New Republic writer Stephen Glass's new book, The Fabulist: A Novel, the protagonist is "Stephen Glass," an erstwhile Washington Weekly writer, fired for making up both stories and substantiating evidence. Hendrk Hertzberg, my favorite New Yorker columnist, circuitously reviews the novel in an editorial about something else (and the great quotes around "Steven Glass" are his), saying:

"Every character in Glass's solipsistic novel--including the sole sympathetic one, "Glass"--is cut from cardboard, and [he] seems to view apology as a for-profit industry with a launch interview on '60 Minutes.' (Glass's nonfictional fiction lacks the imaginative flair of his fictional nonfiction. Perhaps he should try fictional fiction, or just forget the whole thing and practice law.)"

Movin' on up. Maybe.

Alan and Andy are both moving this month. Now I might be, too. A "For Rent" sign appeared in front of the cute stucco building down the street from me, and within an hour I was inside, drooling on the fireplace, dishwasher, disposal, balcony, storage, and back yard, none of which I have now. Oh, and it's cheaper. Plus, the landlord sounds super-responsible, unlike the truant running my current building. Katie from down the hall would be my new roommate, so we have to see if our cats will get along. Downside: my bedroom would be smaller and the apartment isn't nearly as cute as my current one (which has leaded glass cupboards, a darling built-in chest in the bathroom, and curved moldings). And one other criteria on my perfect-apartment-wish-list isn't met: I still can't bring my piano, since there are three other units in the building. And do I want to live with a roommate again? What if Katie and I start to loathe each other? But I've gotten along well with my past roommates who were like Katie. I'm in no hurry to move out of my current building; nothing's broken except the landlord, but Katie's roof has been leaking for a month. Seven people have moved out of our building in the last month for similar unfixed problems. But inertia is a stong force.

Word of the day: Buddha Nature

"n. The One True Home of a page or resource in a Web site's structure. There may be multiple pathways for arriving at it, but it only lives in one spot. "You can get to your account statement from any banking page, but its Buddha Nature is the Document Center." From Jeff Veen´s IA jargon watch

That dirty Rail Europe website

Bbigg, an Internet access place all over Madrid, really sucks. Their proxy server is blocking raileurope´s website, so I can´t look up train times. Somebody be a doll and tell me what times the trains from Montpellier to Avignon are leaving this Friday, May 16. I can thankfully check my email. Let´s hope this post goes through. Cheers.

Lord what fools these mortals be

The London Arts Council recently spent £2,000 testing whether a group of monkeys could, in fact, type the complete works of Shakespeare. Revealing a monumental misunderstanding of the concept of infinity, the research group selected six macaques to hammer away for one month. From the London Daily Mail: "Not only did the monkeys fail to produce one of the Bard's plays, they did not write a single proper word."

God might smite us

My mom and I snuck into High Mass at Notre Dame de Paris yesterday. The gate was open; I figured it was some kind of divine invitation. (Oh, I forgot to mention I'm in Paris right now. So you'll have to forgive a dearth of posts for the next few weeks while I live it up on the Left Bank.)