I’ve been involved deep deep deep in some super secret web-based project which may or may not turn out to be anything more than ashes flying across your nose, but I’m hoping it will be more substantial (two mentions of the nose in one post?…ugh). If it turns out to be the former, you will hear nothing of it; the latter, you may still hear nothing of it. The tea leaves are silent at this point.
On to something more topically appropriate, I was reading The Man Who Was Thursday, a partially steampunked detective and morality story by Chesterton, but it was interrupted by the arrival of The Moviegoer
, by a writer (Percy) who is kind of like Plath without the simmering angst. I want to throw the two books into a closed bread box together to see which one wins (they are evenly matched in girth and readability), but Schrödinger’s spirit was unavailable for consultation.