What of the Carpenter? What of the Eggmen?

Interesting that the walrus is shown to be having such trouble getting back into the water. And keep in mind that this is a healthy specimen, the leader of the pack. So is this just an awkward evolutionary landing for the species? Are they destined to ultimately take to the seas full time? Or does the land hold something for them that will keep them coming back?

Time will tell, whether or not we're around to hear it.

Heroic vices?

Can vices be heroic? It's something I've been thinking about.

I don't want to denigrate idealism, youthful or otherwise. It has its place, certainly. But the things that make up your best self: altruism, integrity, honesty. It often seems like all these things can be bullied out of you under the right circumstances. Bullied out, or twisted so hard that you think your practicing them when really you're just filling out someone else's agenda.

The vices, things like cynicism, laziness, and gluttony, they're old reliables. And they can throw a monkey wrench into the plans of people who might be doing harm in the long run.

So I don't want to make rash decisions about which traits are heroic and which aren't. I can only say that it's a good thing they're all on the table.

Screw your courage to the sticking place

Robert Sikoryak is a name I've only started to hear and thus appreciate in the past few years. He's a brilliant magpie, able to retell just about any story with new details that stand its idea in itself.

So what would the "Scottish play" look like if it were a comics feature set at a sleepy Southern California condo? Now we have an inkling.

Start reading the want ads

Today I went to an ATM to withdraw some cash. I had my card out anyway. But there was a lady in the bank lobby telling me that the ATM wasn't working. But also that I couldn't go into the bank. Because right now you can't get into any bank lobby without an appointment. No exceptions apparently.

Banks could ask why stores of comparable size can have, say, fifteen customers inside and they're apparently capped at zero. They could also petition to get the ban lifted now that infection rates are shown to be dropping, which was true basically at the time the law(?) went into effect. There are lots of potential reasons why they haven't objected, but the simplest and therefore the most probable according to Occam's razor is that they don't object because they have no objections. They've decided that the day-to-day business of their average customer isn't worth the time of their tellers, now or later.

I hope I'm wrong, because if I'm right a lot of people are going to be displaced. There's only so many people they need for loan interviews.

Factory recall

I read somewhere that one of the falling-outs Lou Reed and John Cale had over the course of their lives―and there were a number―was caused by Cale doing the theme music for I Shot Andy Warhol. Which I guess had to do with the whole idea of a film about Valerie Solanas. Does it glorify her? I don't think Cale was out of line, though. If her life could serve as a cautionary tale for someone, I think that's worthwhile.

Have to give Reed the last word, though, just because I love the song he wrote for Warhol after the shooting.

Sister act

My name is Mary Katherine Blackwood. I am eighteen years old, and I live with my sister Constance. I have often that that with any luck at all, I could have been born a werewolf, because the two middle fingers on both my hands are the same length, but I have had to be content with what I had. I dislike washing myself, and dogs, and noise. I like my sister Constance, and Richard Plantagenet, and Amarita phalloides, the death-cap mushroom. Everyone else in my family is dead.

After wrapping up the Elmore Leonard caper Swag, I decided to reread Shirley Jackson's We Have Always Lived in the Castle. As I think the passage above demonstrates, Jackson had a way with opening paragraphs. The Haunting of Hill House had a choice opener as well. Yes, I had to think about the "two middle fingers" bit, because I always count the hand as having five fingers, and with odd numbers you just have one middle. Some people don't count the thumb, though. Merricat Blackwood isn't like me, of course. I like dogs. Books about people unlike you, those about whom you don't even initially know how to feel, are vital. The test, the necessity, is that they be well-drawn.

In the key of sea

The sea organ, "played" by the tides, is an interesting concept. It's in the general Aeolian harp category, where sound is produced by the forces of nature. Certainly a feat, if lacking the personal touch of musicians who have to pick up their instrument.

There are sea organs in a few places worldwide, including Blackpool in Northern England and San Francisco. This one is in Zadar, on the Croatian coast. Don't know if it's loud enough to keep people staying on the beach awake at night.