Margaret > Recent Status Updates

DT Max, my man, do not tell Sondheim that you rhymed "vodka" with "babka" and expect him to be impressed. (If you'd bothered to read his books of lyrics, you'd know how he feels about near rhymes.) There are some good Sondheim nuggets in here, but it's a slog getting to them through the author's deliberate ignorance and presumably non-deliberate self-absorption.

Is it weird that this is comfort reading for me?

The telekinetic squirrels are never not going to make me laugh.

"This, again, was among the fictions of Coketown. Any capitalist there, who had made sixty thousand pounds out of sixpence, always professed to wonder why the sixty thousand Hands didn't each make sixty thousand pounds out of sixpence, and more or less reproached them every one for not accomplishing the little feat. What I did you can do. Why don't you go and do it?"

"Cubs fans, by consensus, are the best in baseball. Year after year, in good times and (mostly) bad, they turn out in vociferous numbers, sustaining themselves with a heavenly ichor that combines loyalty, criticism, cheerfulness, durability, rage, beer, and hope, in exquisite proportions."

As this is arranged by date, with multiple entries from various people for each day of the year, I decided to spend all year reading it, reading each day only the entries for that day. It's dreadfully hard to stop, I already find.

"The grandmothers chattered, drank champagne, and peeped at Ba's birthday cards on the chimney-piece. They were seemly cards, with pictures of bluebell glades and kittens. There were no sick barbs, for she was no longer of the age when there could be rallying jokes about birthdays, and the number of them. She was to be comforted now, with pretty scenes and kind little verses set out in curly print."