Old. So old....

       Okay. Not really. In another couple of years I will cross into truly methuselan realms but for now, I'm merely dangling on the razor's edge. I went to get my eyes checked today and all is well with them oculars. Well, at least for a few more years. Then Darth Presbyopia will pay its first of many visits and leave me with reading glasses and wondering where I left'em.
       My foray into Beckett stuff continues with 'Dream of fair to middling women'. So the story with this book is that Beckett wrote it in a white-hot streak while a young man and had the devil's time to get it published. Eventually he said "Bugger them! If they really want to read it, they won't get their chance until I'm worm food!" Then he passed in 1989 and this book got published three years later.
       I am more than halfway through this book and I have a few thoughts so far. Beckett wanted to emulate James Joyce when he wrote this so some confusion is acceptable. I also get a bit of Sterne while I'm reading this book. Tristram Shandy and his kin would have been a snug fit in Belacqua's world. But the strongest vibe I get hails from poor old Salvatore in Umberto Eco's 'Name of the rose'. Beckett calls upon so many languages it makes the head spin. The polymath Salvatore would have appreciated Belacqua's narration, I suspect.
      I will continue to read 'Dream of fair to middling women' and probably end up giving it a fair to middling rating.

Now for some ghostly shenanigans.

 In the summer one goes roaming

In the morning one does dining.

The Haunted Residency

For decades the residency had gone untenanted. The stories surrounding it were legion. Everything from a murdered mascot to a despised teacher found dead on the property. The grave itself was forever well-kept and lighted but not a soul would come near it.

Normally there was enough space in the other residencies or in the dormitories. This year the classes were full and space was at a premium. Opal had money enough and a sneaky realtor. She signed her name on the dotted line only to hear the bad news as she moved in. But Opal considered herself to be fearless and moved in without delay. 

 Two nights later, while Opal slept, a scowling young figure appeared amidst the pale shrubs that decorated the humble stone. He was hunched over and withered almost to emaciation. New life stirred within the house! He grimaced hatefully. This could not be borne!

Opal dreamed of snow and stars. She stood outside; gazing upon this glaring form. He snarled at her as he cracked his knuckles. "Go away! You'll eat all the food and I'll have nothing! I'm hungry and you're stealing my food!"
She shuddered, realizing that she was looking at the ghost. "But you're dead! You don't need to eat!"

"My jealous roommate locked me in the bedroom and ate all my food!" He howled skyward. "I can't study, I can't go to my exams; I can't even think without food! Go away and let me have my food!"
Opal shivered - more from fear than from cold. "You can come inside and have supper. I'll cook you anything you want."
"Just go away! I'm hungry!" He roared. Darkness smothered the dream and Opal knew no more.

O Larua!

Greetings! My name is Rosa and I'm here to welcome you to the exciting and rewarding realm of the uneasy dead. This is what happens when you get a bad haircut, folks. You die of complete and utter shame. But enough about me. Being dead isn't the end. Follow me and see for yourself!!




 That's my hubby Max. A constant fixture around the old homestead, he loves nothing more than building snowmen and raiding the fridge. You too will be able to mold and manipulate solid stuff. It's always better to sneak out from the grave at night. Our relatives have a weird hang-up with us being around during the day.

On the other hand, death does have weird hang-ups of its own. You may find yourself a little peckish from time to time for the nastiest foods imaginable. Hubby likes his salad fresh and his hot dogs well-grilled but not me. One night I just had the worst craving for week-old goat cheese... yeah. You may want a sick bucket nearby if you want me to go on. You don't? For all our sakes, thank you.

Don't get me wrong - I like my silky coffin lining but some of us remember our old beds and the like. You may want to sneak upstairs and have a nap once in a while. Expect to get some static from your relatives if they catch you.

The best part of death? You can keep hanging out in your relatives' pool even after you've died. Remember that old jerk Mr. Tub? He'll leave you alone! And the best part; you can swim all night if you want. You'll never get tired and you'll never run out of breath if you dunk! Bonus!

There's the more traditional ghost stuff you can do as well but if your relatives are ghost-savvy that sort of thing will get boring pretty quickly. Make snowmen! Jump in the pool! Gross yourself out at the bin! It's all waiting for you; here in the afterlife!

Visitors

 After the shock of Andrew's death had passed, Allan went often to his step-grandfather's grave and mourned for what had been and what could have been had he known Andrew for longer.

 From the Leaf-Pile in the Sky, Andrew could feel his transparent heart melt. He had not known Allan or his father Chris for very long, but they seemed like good people. He found Pam and convinced her to join him in visiting their daughter and new family.

 Pam looked around at the house and was happy to see the couch and TV hadn't changed any. But this wallpaper! Surely her daughter had more taste than this. And if Pam wasn't mistaken, that blue fellow sleeping in Kath's old bedroom was just a little too strange.

 Nobody had told Pam that her daughter had taken in a vampire kid. Her reaction upon finding out was... less than encouraging.

Personally, Andrew didn't care if Allan was a vampire, a werewolf, or a cow mascot. In his past life and then in his past ghostly visits he'd grown to love Chris and Allan. They were good people and they'd take good care of his daughter. With this thought in mind, Andrew let Pam go elsewhere (death do us part, remember?) and continued to watch over his family.

Ghostly!

When Sims die, their ghosts come out to play. Here are a couple of lovely ladies trying to shed phantasmic pounds.

Past meeting present. I think he's telling her she's out of this world.

Ghosts, among other things

Pearl S. Buck's 'Death in the Castle' has gotten me thinking about ghosts and their unfinished business. In the book, it is suggested that England is an old country with a lot of history. That is has quite a few famous castles with famous ghosts is obvious, but in terms of land masses, England is probably no older than North America. One doesn't hear that much about unsettled Aboriginal spirits haunting Canadian or American cities or angry Incan or Mayan spirits at work in Mexico City. I know there's a book out there that looks at this concept -- the name of it escapes me -- but that's about it for that. What is it about European ghosts and their unfinished business?
Yes, I believe in ghosts. I've never seen one or felt one's presence, but I do believe in them. In the book 'Death in the Castle', the ghost of a king takes over the local lord who lives in this castle. If one looks past the idea that this lord might've suffered from a brain tumour (yes, the thought did come to mind), the idea that he was haunted is plausible. I'm pretty sure Buck was not going in the tumour direction, but she seems to leave it open for interpretation.
Looking at it from a more or less Buddhist view, are ghosts more ignorant than living people? They cannot understand that they have passed into another life, and repeat endlessly the rituals of their former life. It's something I'm thinking about. At any rate, I thought 'Death in the Castle' was a mind-twisting book. At one point, I thought that one of the characters, sort of caught in the middle of all the action, was going to lose her mind and run screaming into the night. The lord did seem more than a little odd -- odder than most of faded nobility.