Cleolinda everywhere

Finished! Eight hundred and eighty-eight pages of Ray Bradbury, and I'm finished. And there's a ton of stories they didn't even include. Amazing. No idea what I'll read next, though. Possibly the nonfiction one about William James investigating Spiritualism.

Oh, and something I should have mentioned about "The Universe" show with the "dumb" astronomers: I was writing pretty flippantly about people who are way smarter than I can ever expect to be. I was in a mischievous mood, what can I say--and I don't get those moods a lot. My impression of the astronomers was colored, however, by the fact that one of them even said at one point that he was "embarrassed" that the scientific community had believed something or other (I can't recall what) back in the fairly-recent day. Did anyone see this? Can you remember what he was talking about?

Meanwhile, I've been feeling really good the last couple of days, and I think it's because I'm back on my medication. When I was down with the norovirus, I didn't take my antidepressants for about five days--first, because I couldn't keep them down, and second, because taking them on an empty stomach is a bad idea, or at least it always has been for me. I'd wanted to stop taking them early in the afternoon and move them to mid-morning, so this gave me an opportunity to retrain myself. I'm sure there were side effects (usually I get lightheaded and a feverish feeling), but I was so miserable with the flu that I clearly didn't notice them at all, so in a way, it was ideal. So I've been feeling pretty good now that I'm back on them.

"The road network [in Cleoville] has suffered several damages after riots last night." Uh. Riots?

( Quick linkspam )

Pushed it a little too hard with the eating today--a fried chicken breast (even though I don't eat the skin)? Too soon. Weird spells of fatigue, too--I'll be okay, or even talking somewhat animatedly for a while, and then suddenly I'll just feel like I have to go to sleep now. This may be from not eating, though. Man. Stomach flu sucks.

Damn Norovirus.

Last night I had an invalid's cocktail bar--grape Gatorade, ginger ale, ice water, Advil, Tylenol, saltines--on the nightstand, and I've managed to sleep for four and five hours at a shot. I don't really wake up to do anything in particular, just ache and toss a little. The fireworks were over by 5:30 am on Saturday, so it's just been fever (which went away early this morning, I think) and soreness and generally wishing I was strong enough to take a shower ever since. I would really, really, really like to eat something, if only because my stomach's been rumbling aggressively for about three hours now, and I'm trying to decide if a couple of scrambled eggs would kill me.

ETA: Okay, BRAT adherents, I had a banana and a piece of toast, and... I don't feel so good. This may be because it's the most food I've had in two days. Glad I didn't try the eggs, is what I'm saying. I might try plain tomato soup (can I? please?) tonight, I don't know. Meanwhile, Sister Girl, who came down with it at almost the exact same moment I did, stir-fried herself some chicken and green beans and is running around driving and seeing friends. Arrgh.

... because I like the updating streak I have going. Mom's still weak, but doing better. Shelby seems a little pitiful, but we can't tell if that's because she's worried about Mom (when Meko was really sick there at the end, before she rallied for a few weeks, Sam was really pitiful about that as well). So right now, Shelby's curled up on Mom's lap, which, given that Shelby weighs forty pounds, is a fairly impressive feat. But then she's always been a cuddler.

I finished the Virginia Rounding book--can't remember if I mentioned that--and have moved on to Jim Steinmeyer's A Glorious Deception. I knew I wanted to read this after I read a description of the subject's death, which might have actually been in the Houdini bio I read last Christmas, but I liked Steinmeyer's Hiding the Elephant, so a Chung Ling Soo bio by Steinmeyer recommended itself. Here's basically what happened (and how the book begins): Chung Ling Soo was one of the greatest magicians of the early twentieth century. He performed amazing feats of magic (with his wife as his assistant) and, not knowing English, never spoke, leaving his assistants to speak for him. One night, he was performing the bullet catch, which was rarely mentioned on the program; no audience ever knew in advance if he was going to include it or not. But this time, he did perform it, and this time, something went wrong. Instead of "catching" the bullet in a china plate, he was wounded in the chest. And as he fell, the first row of the audience distinctly heard Chung Ling Soo cry out, "Oh my God! Something's gone wrong!"

I pretty much had to read more about him after that.

So, a couple of things:

The reason LJ broke late Thursday night/early Friday morning: Britney Spears refused to give up children, was taken away in ambulance, is being held for evaluation; ohnotheydidnt (which dubbed it "Hostage Brituation '08") started producing a new page of comments every thirty seconds and then Perez Hilton stole their live feed screencaps.

What's worse than plagiarizing someone's fanfiction? Plagiarizing their journal. And their comments to other people. After they've passed away. And then claiming that the deceased told you to do so. The online reaction is a good example of what I like to call "social consequence": when there's nothing the authorities can do (LJ says they can't do anything unless Thamiris's family files a report, and it was her wish that her family not know about her fannish activities), there's nothing like a good old-fashioned shunnin'.

Aww, hell. My mother's got the flu, and she's so sick she had to call my sister on the phone--my sister, who is in the same house, getting ready for work--and tell her that she couldn't move. I haven't seen her this sick in years.