January 23rd, 2006


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I was awakened this morning by the MRI place. The doctor would like to have me come in for more scans. I'm guessing he saw something odd that he needs to take a closer look at.

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I was thinking this afternoon about some of the weird intersections between friends and acquaintances, how someone from one circle of friends or time of my life knows someone else from a different circle or time.

There was, of course, that time at zzbottom's when wildraven walked into the gathering. I had only known him from hockey games with my high school friend Rob. Seeing him at a gaming event with a mostly poly crowd was completely unexpected, about as far from hockey as you can get.

keyasau3 was telling me a few days ago that she walked into her sister Soma's home and saw a picture of Emily 1 on the wall. I knew that Emily 1 was a department administrator where Soma got her Ph.D., but I had no idea they were actually friends.

I don't remember the context, but last night at dinner Katie mentioned something about her friend H. I listened with the detachment that comes when hearing a story about someone you don't know. Then Katie says to me, "You know, my friend H who you know as A." I had forgotten that Katie and danger_chick were Tae Kwan Do friends. It's funny, 'cause before she left danger_chick had been thinking of introducing me to her friend Emily, seeing as in the past I've had a thing for Emilies. Now I seem to have a thing for Katies. Katie and Emily are friends and have apparently discussed the introduction that wasn't. I find it all very amusing.
Relax!  Grab a Book!

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I had an hour to kill between my acupuncture and chiropractic appointments and did not want to drive all the way home. So I went to Arlington Center to grab a bite to eat. I realized I had forgotten to bring a book with me, so first I stopped at the used book store next to the Regent Theater. I was looking for something that sounded interesting but was also short and likely to be a quick read. I ended up getting Lucy by Jamaica Kinkaid and The Good Soldier by Ford Maddox Ford.

I also stumbled across a true find. I had never heard of the book or the author, but I had to get it: Falstaff: A Novel by Robert Nye. Apparently it won a couple of literary awards in Britain, the Hawthornden Prize and the Guardian Fiction Prize. Here is the description from the back cover:

In this raucous romp of a novel, the most beloved comic figure in English literature tells his own unbuttoned story—to set the record straight.

Irascible and still lecherous at eighty-one, Sir John Falstaff, one of William Shakespeare's greatest characters, spins out these memoirs as an antidote to legend. Set in ribald, earthy, and violent Elizabethan England, Falstaff brings to life not just the man but the entire spirited era, in ways that history and the Bard of Avon overlooked. We learn what really happened that celebrated night at the windmill when Falstaff and Justice Shallow heard the chimes at midnight; who really killed Hotspur; how many men fell at the Battle of Agincourt; what actually transpired at the coronation of Henry V; and just what it was that made the wives of Windsor so merry. Falstaff finally "tells all" about Prince Hal, John of Gaunt, Pistol, Bardolph, Doll Tearsheet, and Jane Nightwork, and his great drama swaggers, laughs, and shouts across every page.