Oh for a book and a shady nook, / Either in door or out; / With the green leaves whispering overhead, / Or the street cries all about. / Where I may read all at my ease, / Both of the new and old; / For a jolly good book whereon to look, / Is better to me than gold. (John Wilson)
I’m not so sure now that gold has gone up another forty bucks an ounce. I love books, but gold . . . well that’s another story. I’ve considered investing in gold these last two stinky economic years, but every time, I think it’s hit its high and don’t invest. Should have done it two years ago. But then, I also should have bought some desert land in the west Valley a decade ago. Whoa! Would that have been a good investment.
It’s another hot day here in Arizona and we have a coyote out in our back hedge, sleeping in the shade. The birds all hate his presence and keep chattering at him. But not getting too close. Even the stupid doves keep their distance.
Another writer I admire is Robert Crais, especially in his Elvis Cole series. Here’s a sample: “From the parking lot, you could look down on the beach and see young men and women in wetsuits carrying short, pointy boogie boards into the surf. They would run laughing into the surf, where they would bellyflop onto their boards and paddle out past the breakwater where other surfers sat with their legs hanging down, bobbing in the water, waiting for a wave. A little swell would come, and they would paddle furiously to catch its crest. They would stand and ride the little wave into the shallows where they would turn around and paddle out to wait some more. They did it again and again, and the waves were always small, but maybe each time they paddled out they were thinking that the next wave would be the big wave, the one that would make all the effort have meaning. Most people are like that, and, like most people, the surfers probably hadn’t yet realized that the process was the payoff, not the waves. When they were paddling, they looked very much like sea lions and, every couple of years or so, a passing great white shark would get confused and a board would come back but not the surfer.” (p. 10, Voodoo River, Robert Crais)
Yeah, it’s the process that’s the payoff, not the waves. I really must remember that.
1 comment:
I've been enjoying Crais for some time. Unfortunately, with managing two blogs (and maybe a third coming) and other projects, I don't get to read that stuff much these days. Love James Lee Burke, too. I really miss Tony Hillerman and Joe Leaphorn.
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