so - last night in herrenberg. as much as i have wanted to return to the USA there are always twinges of melancholy. did i take advantage of the opportunity to experience a new country as much as i could or should have? my mind fights with itself, this is nothing new. i finished my 5th book over an absolutely stupendous rinderfilet at the hotel gasthof restaurant that was apparently only available on the german menu, not the one in english. all this time craving some beef and there was one right under my nose the entire time. anyways, book 5 was "villages" by john updike. his writing style is excellent, but the subject matter not my cup of tea. looking forward to reading the first 2 "rabbit" books on the flight home. couple of great passages at the end.
on the truths of the christian religion (or to me, just western norms):
"one our wish to live forever, however tedious the actual experience of eternal consciousness might be, and, two, our sensation that something is amiss - that there has been a lapse or slippage in the world and things are not quite as they should be. we feel made for a better world, and the fault is ours that this is not eden. the second may be the more solid evidence, since fear and loathing of death can be explained as, like pain, a survival device selected and refined by darwinian evolution. because we fear death, we try harder to live. as long as our genes get through, nature doesn't care how we suffer."
on the onset of alzheimers:
"Owen and Julia are already turned in that direction, talking in baby syllables, touching each other as if for orientation in the dark, squabbling like mated toucans in a tropical jungle and then flying away in perfect forgetful unison."
that last line is a classic description of elderly (and not so elderly) couples...
le with the Johnny Cash staple Ring of Fire playing over an over, everything became clear. Nothing matters, but everything matters. The a.m. radio static fills the synapses with the creative mass that is needed to keep the dual, dual exhaust purring like the smooth cat rolling around in catnip, like jerry Garcia in a pit of juicy tangerines where everyone loves to eat the little squirrels that have been completely taken over by the acorn farm’s dead hamsters rolling thru cash like a drunken Andy Griffith at a laffy taffy store. Focus, once regained, was formidable. He snapped out of the hypnotizing oncoming headlights long enough to veer to the right thus avoiding smacking the back of a volvo. adrenaline is a mighty fine stimulant in times of severe depression or destruction.
served up by a fine Kirsten Dunst look alike and it's all good. waiting on the 3rd place game, played coincidentally in the place where i was lost this morning (guess it was a good idea i did not buy tickets). hard to judge the country's mood for this consolation game,mainly because I DON'T SPEAK ANY GERMAN, but it'll kill a couple of hours and pils.
