Pugilistic stances, bread crumbs channeling Celine

"... and full of melancholy, like those Chekhov characters so laden with virtues that they never know success in life." --Orhan Pamuk, tracer modernist

I am consoled, at least to some degree, that I turned back to Pamuk last evening after I finished the usual take out fish platter I stopped ordering but used to order frequently after Trader Joes opened. Sometimes I can still find myself in the manipulative narrator that offers up a poet journalist like Ka (hello). PBS gave me a crueler and more ridiculing view of the Ottoman state shrinkage, though the intent of the documentary was to instill hope and repair the damage. If you haven't seen it I would not recommend that you do, unless flouting Turkish law to disparage its citizenry is one of your particular scatological pleasures; Pamuk can make you forget unpleasant sensibilities about long wide noses characteristic of the Mamluk golden age, fleeting as that episode in eastern history proved to be. I transformed into a variation of Louis Ferdinand Celine simply by the virtue of Vonnegut channeling the horrified physician in the too clever by far opening of Slaughterhouse Five: "Make it stop! Make it stop!"

Meaning if I could get what I believe it is that I need in a change of scene it would not necessarily change the reality of my ground game. Already afternoon, smirking at the typical bourgeoisie antipodes of my more affluent aunt, her friends, their catastrophic medical vulnerability. Were it up to my uncle, he would taser me into compliance with a straight jacket, if I watch the broadcast choices at all, the highbrow multi-cultural Bend It Like Beckham. I can do that script in my head-- or this bit of junk food, trying to calculate my COPD scale mortality rate. A commentator on WaPo asked me the nationality of my section 202 housing location, and even if I had wanted to pick up the gauntlet, the barb made no sense.

I was a twenty three year old woman when I entered into the PresbyHomes-PCA nexus. My treatment under this model was a sustained and inhumane cruelty, and, as previously indicated, if *citing* my posts on livecams ph is some sort of account suspension tactic-- what is it I have caused, or done, exactly, in your book, after a lifetime of post-academic grief? Not to put so much onus on traffic sources.