There is a certain happiness sighted when your bus comes along. It is of course a small specialized form of happiness and will never be a great thing.

-Richard Brautigan, The Old Bus

Monday, July 23, 2007

Spellbinding bus rides

A spell has been cast on my transit commute by the final book of the Harry Potter series. I doubt I will raise my nose far enough out of the pages while riding to and from work to notice anything worth commenting on. As a result, it may be a day or two before I post again.

Eventually, I will explain how I met Harry Potter.

UPDATE: The noise I originally put in the book slapped me in the face. I put my nose back in the book, embarrassed. And if this all leaves you confused, you are probably not alone. I'm more than puzzled by the fact that I am unable, no matter how hard I try, to write a simple sentence without some glaring typo hiding until after publication and then biting me.


Queen of Dysfunction said...

They're not "typos". They are "art".

Alright. That made no sense to me either.

John said...

In a previous lifetime I would sit in front of the TV and macrame. (I was probably also stoned, but that's not relevant here.) Anyway, somewhere during that lifetime I learned that American Indian artisans, at least certain bead workers among them, deliberately made one mistake in each artwork in order to allow the evil spirits a means of escape.

No evil spirits held here.