I saw a man either dead or quite injured, splayed in a way that dictated wrongness on a grassy median en route to Newark. It was hardly sun up. I kept mulling the word "body"--why we say "body" rather than "dead man/woman/kid"--is it because "body" implies the spirit has left and "man" is of spirit? Is it because body is more clinical and "that man is dead" sounds like what you say in John Ford films? "Body" is rude, I have surmised.
I was at the gate too early but the paper fairy left behind all my favorite sections of the Sunday Times. I was a little saddened to learn that while last year was a good year for freak folk, this year is really it's year; though I am not one to discourage neo-hippie careerism. Obits were sad and incredible: the guy who discovered double stars, a guy who started the oversight committe for Canadian kennels that make artisianal dog cheese*. I read the most gorgeous obit for a man; 74, lifelong Manhattanite, hardly more than a sentence, unsigned--"He lived with outstanding style, spirit, class and always rose to the occasion." O, to live classy in this world. O, to be someone who nurses a dog to make human food! O, twin stars!Posted by Jessica at June 18, 2006 06:45 PM | TrackBack