Evening

Attended a talk about ants and their emergent behaviors.

Chatted with technolope for a few hours about life, love, and –CLASSIFIED–.

Chatted with the bartender about the preview for No Country for Old Men. Revealed that I had another book by the same author in my backback. Was questioned. Produced the book, while technolope explained that I not only *had* the book, but had been *quoting* from it that very evening.

Finished said deeply surreal, yet all too real book on the train home. Briefly looked up to notice that the other group on the train were arguing about Madison’s position in the Federalist papers. God, I love this town.

Found that the insurance policy for my grandfather’s house had been delivered to my building, despite having neither my name nor my apartment number anywhere on it.

Came home to find an inflatable “ostrich jockey” costume sprawled out over one of the dining room chairs. Have to ask redmed about that in the morning.

The quote I shared with technolope:

The truth about the world, he said, is that anything is possible. Had you not seen it all from birth and thereby bled it of its stangemess it would appear to you for what it is, a hat trick in a medicine show, a fevered dream, a trance bepopulate with chimeras having neither analogue nor precedent, an itinerant carnival, a migratory tentshow whose ultimate destination after many a pitch in many a midded field is unspeakable and calamitous beyond reckoning.

The universe is no narrow thing and the order within it is not constrained by any latitude in its conception to repeat what exists in one part in any other part. Even in this world more things exist without our knowledge that with it and the order in creation which you see is that which you have put there, like a string in a maze, so that you shall not lose your way. For existence has its own order and that no man’s mind can compass, that mind itself being but a fact among others.