Thank you

The other day David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest reminded me of the connectedness of all events, so many thanks, DFW. Such a relief.

An exchange

Somewhere below the surface of Horatius' steady stream of words, Pamela was constructing an elaborate argument of her own, albeit inside the confines of her mind. This, as it were, bracketed argument was, alas, lost to the world, owing to the girl's failure to consign it to any means of preservation other than her fallible memory. This mental construct must have been engrossing enough, for she failed to notice his departure.

Some circumstance or other must temporarily have then released her from the verbose young man. At which point, and on occasion of my approaching her on the not entirely unrelated topic of her seeming languorousness, Pamela, unexpectedly aroused, chose to paint in vivid colours Horatius' unwitting talent, when holding forth in her hearing, to virtually sap her of her will to appreciate all that was enjoyable in life.

Nodding in silence, I offered to roll her chair closer to the window, so that the autumn sun might warm the thin blanket covering her legs, and took my leave, in some haste admittedly, as Horatius was returning.

Lak'arana

Lak'arana used to be the haven where the galactic glamorous flocked to when in need of a respite from the demands of their hectic lifestyle.The planet drew shiploads of the glitzy galactic from all over Milky.  Its Diamond Mountains outshone Charon's Carbon Chasm and the Ocean of Calm did, quite literally, define itself .

The leisure-hungry crowds were at one point on the verge of jeopardising the planet's beauty. However, its Administration, for maybe the last time before the Collapse, took prompt effective action and managed to prevent further damage for a good two centuries yet. Indeed, it is recorded in the Vrethmorian Chronicle that even after the Second Dethronement no fewer than a hundred large ships would land on Lak'ar-Geba Spaceport on a daily basis. While some historians dismiss the Chronicle outright, others point to the theory that those latter-day visitors might have been no tourists, but refugees.

Walter's delusion

Franzen's Freedom's Walter is a case in point of how a story can be built around a character's delusions. Come to think of it, how else? We need delusions for any story to develop. Delusion one: that his wife could find complete contentment in him, which was forgiveable, under the circumstances. Second, much later, that his relationship with Lalitha was a sensible choice. 

The situation reminds me of Middlemarch. What would become of literature without these mismatches between kids and 50-year-old farts? And another question and an answer: What were Casaubon and Walter thinking? I know, we all know, what they were thinking.

Shit