Archive for July, 2000

18 July 2000

“The last time I saw them they were sitting on a terrace having a drink. I should have said something to them and I didn’t.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald, more or less

18 July 2000

In 1995, I wrote in my journal, “Budapesters love dogs. They don’t pick up after them.” This has not changed. In other respects, though, Budapest has been tarted up beyond recognition. And without becoming a tourist theme park like Prague. It’s beautiful, walkable, full of little surprises.
ircatCAR

This week’s holiday is Bastille Day, which was apparently celebrated
with a street fair in Budapest, though I was swimming at the Gellért
Baths that night and missed it.

5 July 2000

I’ve slept in every office I’ve ever had. I don’t mean I lived there, I mean some night when I was just too tired to go home, I crawled under my desk and took a nap. But never in this one. I was so proud of myself for being grownup and organizing my work so I wouldn’t ever have to crash under the desk. And I did. Until  tonight.

PS 2015: This is no longer true. I did once crash under my desk in Tampere the week I handed in my dissertation, despite the office lights being on all night. However, I never crashed at the wire service. The security would have made it impossible. There would have been alarms rung in London. Klaxons. Remote control Alsatians. There were some nights I got only a few hours’ sleep at home, notably during a round-the-clock crime story. Nor have I crashed in my office at New University.

4 July 2000

This week’s holiday: Guess.  I am amazed at the spontaneous descriptions and discussions on journals and weblogs and chat rooms.  There’s much more than last year.  This begs the question of whether journals/blogs are ‘private’ or ‘public’ texts, and whether they have already evolved newsmedia-type conventions like A Holiday Is A News Peg.  Favorite comment so far is Patrick: “Nobody does patriotism like New Englanders.”  Me, I ate a makkara but it just wasn’t the same.

PS 2015: That was when the Internet was whelming but not overwhelming. Of course, holidays have long been a peg for private correspondence: cards particularly. Patrick is still a go-to person in my intersphere for the pithy comment.