Sunday, August 11, 2013

Answers to comments, and a minor Apocalypse

The barman at our local here in the country is a bright chap, the sort of barman who only exists in James Taylor songs and stories by Raymond Chandler. I have been reviewing the Apocalypse of St John in Greek, and I asked this barman to serve me what the Saint had beem drinking when he wrote that extraordinary work. He nodded thoughtfully, sought clarification of a couple of details, contemplated the ceiling lights in a distrait, barmanly fashion, and suggested absinthe. I imagine he was wrong, in that the Evangalist was probably not inspired directly by that particular substance, but it his professional instinct had reached an answer that sounded right. Unfortunately he had no absinthe, and we were not able to try our hand at a recreating Revelations. This disappointment has led me to seek Revelation without pharmaceutical help. The result will be published here. Vincent I can't get the comments form to work on the phone, so I must answer your comment hete. I enjoyed my time in Sweden, because it has natiral beauty of exactly the kind I love, and enough new things to keep me amused. It is, however, as you divinef from thevpsots, a vountry that has nothing extraordinary to offer. I have no sense of having entered and experiencef another world, as I often have after visiting other countries, but it is pleasant enough, and at this time of year eveyone is determinedly happy and optimistic abecause the other ten months are misetable. Yes, it is ordinary. I will do my best in the next few days to try to explain why someone would want to visit Seeden ad a tourist. From what you have said though, you probably shouldn't. Of the places you say you have been to in the last few years, all have much more novelty to offer the curious visitor than Sweden, I think.

3 comments:

Vincent said...

Thanks for this. I shall confess to you that my sentimentality about Sweden (or rather Stockholm) is derived mostly from a brief encounter with Karina, a girl I met in Paris, in 1962, and the rendezvous I failed to keep. As written up in this post

Vincent said...

Your bar is in Spain? Anyhow, whatever the barman gave you, it seems to have affected your keying on the phone. Looking forward to your Apocalypse - in instalments if necessary.

CIngram said...

The story you link to reminds me of the style of O Henry. Since a commenter on the original poscompared it to the Arabian Nights this might seem rather bathetic, but to me it is a great compliment.

As to my barman, I said he did not exist outside a certain kind of country song or novel noir. To my knowledge he does not exist in my village, though I have known barmen with a deep understanding of human power and weakness.

The typos were, by the way, produced by nothing more interesting than a tiny keyboard and the refusal of the phone to let me correct anything. Any future absinthe-related experiences will, of course, be shared with readers.