When a common phrase acurately reflects your life
This is what going insane is--
Sleeping on a couch, waking up, reading for 5 hours or more on the couch--never leaving the couch, only the couch. What I've got is my couch and my couch is what I've got.
This week has been unforgivably weird. All of my friends are back in high school, out of the state, up at State, or in the same strange state as me--waiting to go to Ann Arbor--no goals, no purpose, only couches.
To get me through it I've purchased one of those keyboards that lights up the notes for you and am slowing learning how to play the Entertainer.
I've been reading a book called **"Surely, you're joking Mr. Feynmen!" Adventures of a Curious Character** that I bought on the merits of its title alone. It is the collected stories of the zany nobel-prize winning physicist, Richard P. Feynmen, who relates his humorus experiences working on the atom bomb and trying to pick up women in bars. On the back of the jacket Time magazine says about the book "A chain reaction is not a bad analogy for Feynmen's life. From a critical mass of gray matter it goes off in all directions, producing both heat and light." The New Yorker raves "Quintessential Feynmen--funny, brilliant, bawdy.. enormously entertaining." One has to admit Feynmen has a pretty funny name. Come on say it--Feynmen. Envisioning the "y" makes it funnier. In one of my favorite sections of the book a very important and famous physicist and his son are going to be arriving at Los Alamos where the young and wide-eyed Feynmen is working on the bomb.
***
In the morning of the day he's due to come I get a telephone call.
"Hello--Mr. Feynmen?"
"Yes."
"This is Jim Baker." It's his son. "My father and I would like to speak with you."
"Me? I'm Feynmen, I'm just a--"
"That's right. Is eight o'clock OK?"
***
I just really like that he says, "Me? I'm Feynmen," it's good to hear him admit it.
So maybe you can see--I don't have much here. Not much more than two days of nothing.
And light-up keys.
And Feynmen.
Sleeping on a couch, waking up, reading for 5 hours or more on the couch--never leaving the couch, only the couch. What I've got is my couch and my couch is what I've got.
This week has been unforgivably weird. All of my friends are back in high school, out of the state, up at State, or in the same strange state as me--waiting to go to Ann Arbor--no goals, no purpose, only couches.
To get me through it I've purchased one of those keyboards that lights up the notes for you and am slowing learning how to play the Entertainer.
I've been reading a book called **"Surely, you're joking Mr. Feynmen!" Adventures of a Curious Character** that I bought on the merits of its title alone. It is the collected stories of the zany nobel-prize winning physicist, Richard P. Feynmen, who relates his humorus experiences working on the atom bomb and trying to pick up women in bars. On the back of the jacket Time magazine says about the book "A chain reaction is not a bad analogy for Feynmen's life. From a critical mass of gray matter it goes off in all directions, producing both heat and light." The New Yorker raves "Quintessential Feynmen--funny, brilliant, bawdy.. enormously entertaining." One has to admit Feynmen has a pretty funny name. Come on say it--Feynmen. Envisioning the "y" makes it funnier. In one of my favorite sections of the book a very important and famous physicist and his son are going to be arriving at Los Alamos where the young and wide-eyed Feynmen is working on the bomb.
***
In the morning of the day he's due to come I get a telephone call.
"Hello--Mr. Feynmen?"
"Yes."
"This is Jim Baker." It's his son. "My father and I would like to speak with you."
"Me? I'm Feynmen, I'm just a--"
"That's right. Is eight o'clock OK?"
***
I just really like that he says, "Me? I'm Feynmen," it's good to hear him admit it.
So maybe you can see--I don't have much here. Not much more than two days of nothing.
And light-up keys.
And Feynmen.