I have to go to Honolulu tomorrow to get fluid taken off my lung. My greatest fear is that I will have one of my awful coughing fits in public. They are gruesome and last a good fifteen minutes. Terry says he will take a club along and knock me over the head if I start in on one. Very reassuring! The medication I'm taking to squelch the coughing spasms helps some, but I get them anyway and always there is no warning.
The weekend was pleasant, with friends dropping by and lots of time for reading. Skipped the Oscars except for what people were saying about the ceremony on Twitter. Much ado about not very much was my verdict. Fences is streaming now, and we will watch it tonight, if I'm feeling up to it.
La Migra is scaring the wits out of people, even here. I'm hearing a few stories.
Just a couple of quotes that struck me, from my vast reading over the past days. This is from a review of a book about the Hebrides in the Times Literary Supplement, by Fani Papageorgiou:
Dr. [Samuel] Johnson was enchanted by the island of Raasay, east of Skye: "without is the rough ocean and the rocky land, the beating billows and the howling storm, within is plenty and elegance,beauty and gaiety, the song and the dance."
Also from the TLS, by Peter de Bolla:
Art doesn't progress. Some of the best pictures were the first ones. An individual artist might develop because life does. But art itself doesn't. That's why the idea of primitive is wrong.
These are nice thoughts to start this arduous week on.