Do you ever wonder when the "mute" button on the telephone is invented? "You mean you want to NOT talk on a phone? Why will anyone want to do that?"

I can name one reason (and a very important one):
When you want to mute the phone and snort in derision during a teleconference.

I'm now listening to Joanna Newsom's "Ys". In an interview with Uncut, Joanna said Ys is a reference to a city island in Breton mythology that was built below sea level and had a wall around it. Then the dam got breached and the city flooded. Several myths surrounded this, but the one Joanna has heard involves the king's daughter, who was a hedonist, and the city declined into a state of self-gratification, greed and laziness.

"The king's daughter would take a new lover every night and put a mask on him. It was a magical mask, so after she was finished with him, these large prongs would come out on the inside of the mask and kill him, and then she'd throw him into the ocean. Then one night she had a visitor who was the devil, or in other versions was this righteous figure who would punish her for her ways. She couldn't put the mask on him because she fell in love with the beauty of his face. He convinced her to go and take her father's keys. She did so in a trance, unlocked the wall and the sea rushed in."

Ran 8km this morning listening to Paprika's ending theme on auto-repeat.

When I run, everything seems to slowly return to order.

I can't believe I've not read any of the 100 Notable Books this year selected by New York Times. Ga.

I operate like an elevator most of the time, and respond pretty well to the drudgery of repetitive requests summoning me up or down. But sometimes there are people who know how to push my button, the fire-hydrant red one tucked out of the way. They press it just to hear the alarm and maybe bring me to a jarring halt. Normally I'll bite my lip and let it slide, but you surprised me yesterday.

When my alarm button was pushed, you were the building superintendent barking into his microphone that's broadcasting to the whole lift. You warned off the alarm-raiser. And I didn't sound any bells. I didn't stop.

Thank you.

While watching the movie trailer for "Spiderman 3", you turned to me and confided: "Spiderman is a vegetarian!" That, and the fact that you clung tightly to my hand and laughed at me while I was squirming and squawking at the action sequences in "Casino Royale", made you endearing.

C'est la vie. Another mushy post, just past 1am in the morning too.
Need to brace myself for the coming week!

Animation Nation tickets are now on sale!

In a field
I am the absence
of field.
This is
always the case.
Wherever I am
I am what is missing.

When I walk
I part the air
and always
the air moves in
to fill the spaces
where my body's been.

We all have reasons
for moving.
I move
to keep things whole.
- Mark Strand, "Keeping Things Whole"

I couldn't run this evening due to rain, so I made a trip to the library instead. At first, I walked down the aisles and started picking out sad books. I could tell they're sad because the opening lines were filled with regret (and also because I cheated and read the endings). I couldn't deny they were beautifully written, but really I'm in a give-me-funny-if-it-can't-be-happy mood.

So I ended up with:
Marina Lewycka's "A short History of Tractors in Ukrainian" (probably the only book I'll ever read with the word "tractor" in its title)

Carrie Fisher's "The Best Awful" (yes, Princess Leia can write)

Julian Gough's "Juno & Juliet" (because I fell in love with the book cover: the pale legs of 2 girls in their red swimsuits in a swimming pool)

Kim Wong Keltner's "Buddha Baby" (because the protagonist is a Chinese banana)

Sometimes you read not to write. You read to have fun.

You're a listener. You pay attention when I'm not speaking, to sounds I am unaware of. You notice the tiny cracks my knees make when I move my joints. You hear my stomach rumbles before I know I am hungry. You understand my purrs.

It feels nice to have someone who can be your personal pair of ears.

I'm swarmed with work and non-work. Sometimes I visit my blog and wonder hmm, didn't I already blog about whatever and by the way, what is whatever? and then it's time to rush again.