Fergus, Weaver of Autistic Webs > Recent Status Updates

(Bosch) had always operated according to the axiom that everybody counts in the world or nobody counts.... The fact (of the victim’s) willingness to carry out the deadly business (of a gang of thugs) did not deter Bosch from wanting to find his killer.
- Noble sentiments. Who among us shares them?

Another cozy pageturner from a wonderful British author.

Excellent! Great glimpses of the thoroughgoing work of detection in progress.

INDIAN SUMMER
Dickinson
These are the days when birds come back,
A very few, a bird or two,
To take a backward look.
These are the days when skies put on
The old, old sophistries of June -
A blue and gold mistake.
Oh, fraud that cannot cheat the bee,
Almost thy plausibility
Induces my belief...

The doctor Williams felt himself to
be was no better or worse than his patients - as prone to prejudice and pride and idiocy - yet in a position of responsibility, and expected, one way or another, to live up to it.

LOVE IN AMERICA?
Whatever it is, it’s a passion
A benign dementia that should be
Engulfing America, fed in a way
the opposite of the way
In which the Minotaur was fed.
It’s a Midas of tenderness;
from the heart;
Nothing else....

What sheer dogged determination - true grit! An incredible saga.

In the 1950’s, the young Black Mountain poet Robert Creeley carried on a correspondence with Ezra Pound and William Carlos Williams. In one letter, Williams wrote to him:
‘The local idiom, the variable foot is the foundation of all your measures... you have the subtlest feeling for the measure except in the verses of Ezra Pound, whom I cannot equal.’

Whether the rain comes down
or there be sunny days
the sleets of January or the haze
of autumn afternoons, when
we dream of our youth our gaze
grows mellow, wise man or fool,
we were young, the future
beckoned us.

I will just have to put my other serious fictional reading on hold... Mysliwski is, for my money, quite simply the greatest modern literary genius I have come across in fifty years.
I read Joyce, Kafka and Beckett in ‘67 and ‘68 - and I honestly can say I’ve never since read anyone of their stature, to me at least... until now. This is writing of a monumental and classical simplicity. I’m staggered.

Ignorance is bliss! Poor old Burrhus (now, that’s even rarer than Fergus!) Skinner - like an old horse with blinders he was tunnel-visioned and blind to the vast untapped potential of great literature and art - a potential for sheer, rich, positive transformation in the human mind and character! Yes, poor Burrhus - if it hadn’t been for his obsessional work habits, he would have died from sheer boredom...

Beat this, budding poets!

MARRIAGE
So different, this man
And this woman:
A stream flowing
In a field.

‘Did anything in particular set (that old Scrooge Ben) off?’
‘Mr Scribner thought he saw Mr Marlowe’s ghost. At first he wasn’t afraid, but it seems he didn’t like what Mr. Marlowe told him....’
‘Did he say what Mr. Marlowe told him?’
‘He was babbling, but... if he didn’t change his ways the same thing would happen to him’!!!!!!!

How times change, old friend,
And how little anything changes!
...
Quiet and unnoticed
The flower of your whole life
Has opened its perfect petals -
And none to witness, save one
Old worshipper!

Best Holiday book ever - I’m amazed!

Wonderful! This has GOT to be Five Stars!

You make me think of many men
Once met to be forgot again
Or merely resurrected
In a parenthesis of wit
That found them hastening through it
Too brisk to be inspected.

CAMELLIA SABINA:
and the Bordeaux plum
from Marmande (France in parentheses) with
A.G. on the base of the jar - Alexis Godillot -
unevenly blown beside a bubble that is green when held up to the light; they are a fine duet; the screw-top for this graft-grown
briar-black bloom on black-thorn pigeon’s-blood is, like Certosa, sealed with foil. Appropriate custom.

‘You don’t have to go to school if you don’t want, sweetie.’
‘I want to,’ I said.
‘Auggie...’
‘Really, Mom. I want to.’
And I wasn’t lying.
- Alea acta est!

HARD LIFE WITH MEMORY:
I’m a poor audience for my memory.
She wants me to attend her voice nonstop,
but I fidget, fuss,
listen and don’t,
step out, come back, then leave again.
She wants all my time and attention.
She’s got no problem when I sleep.
The day’s a different matter, which upsets her.
- Complaint of an alert senior citizen besieged by her dream-memories!

Gadzooks! The ghost of Jake Marlowe (get it - Marley?) is haunting that old scrooge Ben!

´IVCET:
That was easy, thought Jake Marlowe, cackling merrily as he wrote EVICT in the blanks of a word jumble...´
- hmmmm! Evict? And in a book called Christmas Carol Murder, Jake Marlowe... JACOB MARLEY, by chance?!
Sounds like fun.

A very, VERY good little book - just in time for the Holidays! Lucy Stone is such a wonderfully ordinary small-town girl in this Cozy Mystery & she’ll make life comfy for you at this stressful time of the year. The only reason I didn’t give it FIVE stars was its light, family feel.., but it’s a Budget Priced Deal - my first of many to come by Ms Meier!

And to think I never even SUSPECTED this guy! Bravo, Ms Meier!

There was too much risk in truly knowing, Anne thought. The truth was either bad or it was horrible, and she had to hope, and believe, that the truth was only bad.
- Anne on the tip of the iceberg...

People had already begun readying for the Day of the Dead, only two weeks away. They were starting to prepare the dead’s favorite snacks... food they themselves would like to eat, but they knew the restless spirits were famished.... Everybody knew that being dead could put you in a terrible mood.