as i've become older and more overscheduled, i've noticed organizational schemes eventually fail me. the "to-be-read" collection of books, papers, etc., has devolved into something i now refer to with an embarassed affection as "The Pile." this last weekend, i did a brief rummage through The Pile and came across a book that i do not remember purchasing. i have no idea when or where i bought it. the book was Monkey, A Folk Novel of China written in the 16th century (Ming dynasty) by Wu Ch'Eng-En and translated into English in 1943 by James Waley. after the "what the f...?" moment passed, i began to read the book and i will admit this was one of the funniest and most entertaining reads i have had in recent memory. i now, like Monkey, refer to the restroom/privy as "..the sacred chamber of metabolic transmigration." i believe that is a wonderfully appropriate name and it is "gussy-ed up" enough to honour the fact that the sacred chamber of metabolic transmigration is perhaps one of the best places one can have a serious think.
i tried to bring up this discovery at the Tea and Cupcake Social and Supper Club meeting, Wednesday, but the collective response was little better than mass-incomprehension. sometimes, i think it would be more rewarding to 'conversate' with turnips. i've tried, but i just can't seem to muster interest in television....and that was what most folks seemed to be talking about.....that, or who binked whom at the last pool-party at _______'s house.