Violeta on the Face The Nation set at CBS DC. Is nothing sacred?
Today, nothing shocking. You won’t need your fibrillator. Some not-too-coherent thoughts from south of the border:
In Guadalajara near the US Consulate there is the Estación de Lulio, an open walled restaurant, cafe and wine bar sort of place with unencrypted Wifi. Early on I could never remember the name and so began calling it the Libélua, or Dragonfly, and so it has remained for us. It is a hangout for students and people who want to do things with laptops or sit for a few hours over coffee or a glass of Merlot and read without being pressured to buy, buy, buy. An advantage is its being about a block from one of the city’s better bookstores, the Librería José Luis Martínez.
Nekkid In Austin: Drop…
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When Vi takes the CRV to Honda for its prescribed meals of grease and oil, she typically wanders around the José Luis a bit, buys something to read, and ensconces herself for a few hours in the Libélula. I stay home and write lies and distortion.
She has a nerdy streak, last time acquiring t Descartes’ Discurso del Método, something by Cicero and something else on Zen.
I think that reading philosophy is a sign of mental disorder. It seems to consist of very powerful minds spinning their wheels since they don’t really have anywhere to start. (“I think, therefore I am.” Oh. Rocks don’t think, therefore they aren’t. Or rocks are, therefore they think. I’d rather have a beer and watch old videos of Annette Funicellso in a swimsuit.)
Anyhow she is a scorched-earth reader, going through everything she can find by an author, Aristotle, the Pre-Socratics, the Apocrypha–-all of the Aocrypha. My head…