tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542316484097367453.post8918008649987914229..comments2023-04-27T05:54:24.487-07:00Comments on Walks with Mway: Walks with Mwaysisyphus gregorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06756457778788833277noreply@blogger.comBlogger59125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542316484097367453.post-27606481588257905892016-02-22T06:02:17.139-08:002016-02-22T06:02:17.139-08:00It was only going to be a matter of time until the...It was only going to be a matter of time until they combined blogs and books right? I'd be interested to read this and see how that narrative style works out! Trademark Solicitorhttp://www.eip.com/noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542316484097367453.post-39527572064855830682015-07-09T06:17:21.144-07:002015-07-09T06:17:21.144-07:00Eventually Mway could no longer get up off the flo...Eventually Mway could no longer get up off the floor and had trouble breathing and we had Lennie put her to sleep. The very next day, after we buried her poor dogsbody in the ground next to the herb garden, Moi started looking around for another dog. “I can’t live without a dog,” “I’ve always had a dog.” “Love me, love my dog” (showing me the magnet sign from the refrigerator), are the things she said to me when I suggested maybe we should relax a minute and consider not getting another dog. I soon gave in, however – her birthday was coming up, I didn’t know what else to get her, she quite possibly couldn’t live without a dog and I apparently have been able to live with one. So this is the new thing, Mway, I feel I should mention. I know you had no great love for other dogs, but maybe you would like this pup (who just now pooped and peed here in my office). A Blue Heeler/Border Collie mix, named Snap (short for Whippersnapper), she looks just like you in the face, except for some black fur around her snout that gives her the appearance of having a big black nose. Both her ears stick up straight like yours used to do. A number of times already Moi and I have both absentmindedly called her by your name. In her body, though, she looks much like Blue, her fur black and smooth, not dappled and bristly like yours, and ending, not in a stub, but a long black tail, tipped white. She now accompanies me on my afternoon walks like you used to do, only our walks don’t end in a fetch but in a one-on-one bout with a soccer ball – talk about something new. And more like a rock even than a stick – oh, happy times.sisyphus gregorhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06756457778788833277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542316484097367453.post-9051226090557199342015-07-09T06:15:42.127-07:002015-07-09T06:15:42.127-07:00And talk about new things under the sun, perhaps i...And talk about new things under the sun, perhaps it’s now easier for me to mention this one new thing, as I’m sure Mway would want me to do. Actually I’m not sure she would, but it seems right anyway to mention it here. Obviously (or perhaps it’s not so obvious) Mway and I never got around to starting a new blog, the one in which I would discuss consciousness through a reading of Sartre’s Being and Nothingness and she would discuss the word “dog-ear.” Just never got around to it. And sadly, in the last six months of her life, she even stopped taking a walk with me. She had fallen down the stairs one day and never recovered, plus she developed a bad skin rash. She could only walk on quivering legs. Moi gave her prednisone for the rash, but this caused her to drink water insatiably. Both her ears now drooped, and she showed no interest in reading, just seemed content to lie in the room where I banged away on the piano. I felt her absence on the walks down to the creek, my only consolation being that if I did not feel like taking a walk I did not have to take one. And it’s sad to say that, after a while, I started to enjoy a certain freedom in the walks. I started lengthening them, stomping out new paths, even mowing the paths to keep them clearer of weeds. I have to admit: I did not miss throwing a stick at all.sisyphus gregorhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06756457778788833277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542316484097367453.post-18381037228723005792015-05-29T06:33:27.789-07:002015-05-29T06:33:27.789-07:00That was actually me trying to post a comment abov...That was actually me trying to post a comment above. When I saw it didn't come up under my own name, I tried to correct the error by deleting the comment, but this has only made things more confusing. My apologies (especially to Beverley Conrad). I think I've solved the problem now, so this should come up correctly now.<br /><br />What I meant to post on May 27, 2015 was this:<br /><br />Mway<br />2002 - May 27, 2015<br />"There are new things under the sun every day -- and throughout the day."sisyphus gregorhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06756457778788833277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542316484097367453.post-1647722396309345882015-05-27T10:59:44.659-07:002015-05-27T10:59:44.659-07:00This comment has been removed by the author.Beverley Conradhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16428272187427135021noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542316484097367453.post-6847042868091934132014-08-20T07:42:14.606-07:002014-08-20T07:42:14.606-07:00Learned something this past week, feel compelled t...Learned something this past week, feel compelled to mention -- something to disconcert the dog: Alphabetical Africa by Walter Abish, published 1974. Nothing new under the sun.sisyphus gregorhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06756457778788833277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542316484097367453.post-8518306402146435992013-06-29T08:39:43.182-07:002013-06-29T08:39:43.182-07:00Feel compelled to add this (though it’s been a whi...Feel compelled to add this (though it’s been a while, hasn’t it?): This past week in Wade’s New York Times Book Review I came across an article on Karl Ove Knausgaard and his succés de scandale, the autobiographical work Min Kamp, apparently published in the same time frame as this blog. I don’t think I need to point out our common situation and the similarities between his work and mine (admittedly I’ve only read excerpts of his work from a New Yorker review online). I would like to note this one difference though: A half a million Norwegians have read his book and his family is upset about the things he’s written about them (an outraged ex-wife, an angry uncle, an estranged second wife), and Mr. Knausgaard apparently feels pretty sick about this (and worried how his three young children will eventually react too). So I guess I can feel pretty grateful that hardly anyone has read my work here (how much, really, has Moi read?), and the one being who has read any significant portion of it has, in the long run, surely benefited more than suffered from what I’ve written about her – don’t you think?sisyphus gregorhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06756457778788833277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542316484097367453.post-88946377709599761292013-03-19T06:54:53.769-07:002013-03-19T06:54:53.769-07:00Yes, that sounds like a good idea, and I can help ...Yes, that sounds like a good idea, and I can help you with it (also there’s something about your one ear I’d like to explain to you). Only let’s not do it here. We can discuss dog ears in my new blog, if and when I start one up. Or if you can’t wait for me to do that, I’ll open up a word file in the meantime. Just one last thing here though (on this surprise-snow pre-Spring day) -- you asked about Jazz, but you didn’t ask about Atlas. Wouldn’t you like to know how Atlas is doing?sisyphus gregorhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06756457778788833277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542316484097367453.post-35448715347823006172013-03-18T06:30:34.376-07:002013-03-18T06:30:34.376-07:00What do you know about the word “dog-ear”? I’ve b...What do you know about the word “dog-ear”? I’ve been thinking about this curious word for a long time now and it’s been on my mind again of late. Perhaps I could take a break from being a novelist and investigate the etymology of this word and discuss its inappropriateness as a metaphor. It’s a bad metaphor, don’t you think? Not all dog ears are bent downward like the “dog-eared” page of a book. MM.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542316484097367453.post-52278308449061512972013-03-17T06:25:59.836-07:002013-03-17T06:25:59.836-07:00No. She’s gotten a job as an assistant manager of...No. She’s gotten a job as an assistant manager of a snowboard shop and I guess she wanted to go snowboarding while there was still some snow on the ground. Unfortunately it was not with Matt – I don’t want to go any further into this. I’ll just say this because it might interest you: at the house where she’s now living with her girlfriend, who has something like ten dogs and cats, she thought for a while that Spook had suffered a heart attack or something, but I guess the pathetic cat is still holding on.sisyphus gregorhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06756457778788833277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542316484097367453.post-84998463915332032392013-03-16T06:19:33.264-07:002013-03-16T06:19:33.264-07:00The Girl – I guess you call her Jazz – didn’t come...The Girl – I guess you call her Jazz – didn’t come to visit? MM.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542316484097367453.post-61561085943224397102013-03-15T06:30:07.511-07:002013-03-15T06:30:07.511-07:00Yes, he was visiting here for his birthday, but he...Yes, he was visiting here for his birthday, but he’s gone back to NYC. To Moi’s and my relief, he didn’t ride back on his motorcycle because it was too snowy and windy. (You may have noticed that he bought himself a motorcycle this past year, which he’s been working on and storing in the outbuilding, covered up so the chickens don’t shit all over it. Unfortunately we don’t have a garage or any place where he can work on it, but he had a chance to take it to Ezra’s workshop where he took the engine apart, painted it, and put it back together. Yesterday or the day before, though, Moi found a bolt from it lying in our driveway – sounds like an important piece. I wish I didn’t have to think about this damn motorcycle of his. But I found a copy of Robert Pirsig’s Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance up in the attic, which I’ll give to him next time he visits.)sisyphus gregorhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06756457778788833277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542316484097367453.post-29740304260348355012013-03-14T05:17:36.313-07:002013-03-14T05:17:36.313-07:00Yes, I remember now, the Boy was here a couple day...Yes, I remember now, the Boy was here a couple days ago. I like it when he’s here – sometimes he throws stick for me and when I’ve got the stick clenched between my teeth he’ll grab both ends and spin me around in the air (something you don’t tend to do). But I don’t see him around now. MM.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542316484097367453.post-12208671876888526982013-03-13T06:31:31.730-07:002013-03-13T06:31:31.730-07:00“Haven’t you figured out yet whether you’re consci...“Haven’t you figured out yet whether you’re conscious or not?” “Haven’t you figured out whether you’re conscious or not yet?” “Haven’t you figured out whether or not you’re conscious yet?” – I’m trying to decide how she would have phrased that (and I can’t believe that in my comment above I’ve written “your” instead of “you’re”). But to answer your question, MM: Moi’s been tapping maple sap and boiling it into syrup. And she’s been doing a lot of other things too. Working on an oil portrait of the Boy that he wanted for his birthday, for instance. And ice skating several times a week at an indoor rink in a nearby town – in fact, she’s just interrupted my train of thought here by telling me she’s sad that the rink will soon be closing for the season. What can I do but shake my head in commiseration then glance back at this page to give her the hint that I’m trying to write here?sisyphus gregorhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06756457778788833277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542316484097367453.post-37119217576089174392013-03-12T05:41:04.221-07:002013-03-12T05:41:04.221-07:00Has it truly been over a year since I posted the l...Has it truly been over a year since I posted the last chapter of my novel? I guess it’s so – and I guess I must have been thinking about other things in that time too. For instance: of late Moi’s been carrying these jugs of – I suppose it would be sap – up from the trees and boiling it on the stove. She’s been letting me outside to follow her. Back and forth. Back and forth. What’s this all about? MM.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542316484097367453.post-19715626142939213252013-03-11T12:10:37.833-07:002013-03-11T12:10:37.833-07:00Though such a blog would (definitely in this case)...Though such a blog would (definitely in this case) not be riveting to Moi. I remember many years ago, back when we still had only one computer connected to the internet (hers), I would frequent Chalmers’ Consciousness Page and Moi, catching me going there, mockingly asked me, “Haven’t you yet figured out whether your conscious or not?” sisyphus gregorhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06756457778788833277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542316484097367453.post-85100064077331576612013-03-11T06:47:54.301-07:002013-03-11T06:47:54.301-07:00Look, I believe it comes down to this: all we can ...Look, I believe it comes down to this: all we can say about whether Moi liked your novel or not is that we don’t know, so we might as well assume she liked it. And I bet she meant to single it out for praise in a later comment but got distracted by other things. You know what it’s like to be distracted. And, for chrissakes, it’s been over a year since she made the comment; I’m sure she’s moved on to other thoughts, and I think it’s time for you to move on to something else yourself. You – as well as me. For I’m also berating myself – I who seem to be stuck in this blog, opening it up every morning while I’m having morning coffee, adding a comment here and there thoughout last year, wondering if I should add even more to it this year. I have thought about adding more to it, but I wouldn’t want to write about anything stressful, just something while I’m gulping coffee to carry me away for a few moments from the cares and concerns of life (which I can’t keep up with anyway). Perhaps I could say something more on the topic of consciousness, which I bring up at one point but don’t get very far with – that would be fairly mindless. Perhaps I could present a reading of Sartre’s Being and Nothingness and spark a discussion of the baffling fact that people like David Chalmers (the current leading authorities on consciousness – see the wikipedia article on it) seem totally unaware of this book. Something like that perhaps – only (now that I think about it) I shouldn’t do it here, not in this blog. I should set up another blog – maybe even a real riveting one this time. sisyphus gregorhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06756457778788833277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542316484097367453.post-13399625044966715602013-03-10T07:50:44.315-07:002013-03-10T07:50:44.315-07:00It occurs to me that our question “how could Moi n...It occurs to me that our question “how could Moi not have liked my novel?” can be interpreted in different ways, depending on whether “not” or “liked” is emphasized by being placed in italics – unfortunately, it seems neither you nor I know how to make italics in these comment boxes – at least I don’t; do you? It seems to me we don’t even know what question we’re asking, and if we did we wouldn’t even be able to put it properly into words. MM.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542316484097367453.post-26273402559969058872013-03-09T05:21:19.154-08:002013-03-09T05:21:19.154-08:00MM?MM?sisyphus gregorhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06756457778788833277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542316484097367453.post-15636819946262496182013-03-07T05:42:46.010-08:002013-03-07T05:42:46.010-08:00See, now you’re talking as if she was just respond...See, now you’re talking as if she was just responding to your contributions to the blog! Maybe I’ll go crawl into my --- MM.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542316484097367453.post-47931478372852015992013-03-06T05:42:39.324-08:002013-03-06T05:42:39.324-08:00When I first read her comment, on Christmas mornin...When I first read her comment, on Christmas morning, it made me very happy. And even now, as I look at her comment again and realize she was probably being gently facetious in calling my blog “riveting,” I feel it was very sweet of her to say so. sisyphus gregorhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06756457778788833277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542316484097367453.post-58867399068552455382013-03-05T06:06:56.632-08:002013-03-05T06:06:56.632-08:00But my novel is still something Moi must have like...But my novel is still something Moi must have liked? We’ve been saying: “how could Moi not have liked it?” MM.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542316484097367453.post-29607579354295662262013-03-04T06:08:07.460-08:002013-03-04T06:08:07.460-08:00Please don’t bring up things to be regretful about...Please don’t bring up things to be regretful about – I myself have perhaps written more things in this blog than I should have, certainly more than I originally intended, and at the same time not enough. To make matters worse I can’t even commit myself to these regrets – thinking maybe they’re something to be regretful about in the short run, but in the long run “it’s better to have written something, rather than nothing” or “it’s better to have spilled the milk, than never to have had milk at all” – I don’t know what I’m saying.sisyphus gregorhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06756457778788833277noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542316484097367453.post-35374341217238325072013-03-03T05:27:55.219-08:002013-03-03T05:27:55.219-08:00And she likes other animals too – and plants, rock...And she likes other animals too – and plants, rocks, water, dirt, the sky. There’s plenty of that stuff in my novel. But perhaps I should have put some chickens in it. I know Moi is awfully fond of her chickens. I could have thrown some chickens in my C chapter – but I didn’t because I didn’t see that they were appropriate there, and I only put in my novel what was appropriate. I did put “cats” in there, but only in the American slang sense meaning “man.” I thought about having some feline “cats” dropping into sight when Cosmological Constance makes her entrance, but again that would have been an unnecessary complication of the plot. Now that I’m thinking about it I see I could have included “fiddle” in my F chapter, which would have made Moi happy (I didn’t because at the time I was focusing on pianos, trumpets, and didgeridoos – I can’t think of everything all the time). It’s too bad that the content of comment boxes can’t be revised because I can see now where I could have fit “fiddle” in. I guess the best I can do is post an erratum stating that line four of F should read: “Finnegans fiddle, fumble.” I regret I didn’t put that in before. I hope this lack of a fiddle was not a big factor for Moi, and, if it was, I hope this makes up for it now. MM.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5542316484097367453.post-72092128680867458652013-03-02T06:04:11.394-08:002013-03-02T06:04:11.394-08:00Well, I suppose like many (if not all) assumptions...Well, I suppose like many (if not all) assumptions this is one that’s not quite self-evident, and there’s an argument that must be made to support it. But I think it’s a strong argument. It goes like this: although you can tell from the books she keeps in her bedroom that Moi likes stories that are told in a more or less straightforward fashion (she enjoys word play so long as it forthrightly supports and clarifies content and does not get carried away), and although she’s not a big fan of the work of any of the historical personages you enlist as characters (indeed, as you might know from when she stomps on the floor if I’m playing bebop or similar jazz for too long on the piano in the music room below her bedroom, the rhythmic jumble and dissonance of modern jazz just sounds like traffic to her and makes her nervous) – despite these “although’s,” I would think that Moi would like your novel because it is, after all, a dog story, and Moi loves dog stories.sisyphus gregorhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06756457778788833277noreply@blogger.com