Finished Maguire's Son of a Witch this morning over coffee, having read it over the last couple of days. Then, later, here at the library, like I like to do with anything that captivates me, I googled it and read the reviews. Funny how it is, being the genius with adult ADD that I am: It always seems to me that my fellow human beings, even the ones who like the same things I do, have half their brains missing. Doesn't anybody recognize allegory? And the majority seem to think that the "lighter" version of Wicked represented by the Broadway musical (I shudder to think) is not a grotesque travesty. Other than that, I've been listening on my portable CD player to Die Schoeppfung--going over and over the depiction of 'chaos' at the beginning, at first trying to visualize the images of deep space from the Hubble telescope, then trying not to visualize them. If that ain't Brahma, what is?

But seriously, is my disease Adult ADD or Egotism? Or is it really a disease at all? It's something I frankly wonder about with Dr. C. When I told her the story of how I reacted to the senseless horror of the obscene U.S. military adventure in Viet Nam, Dr. C. herself volunteered, "Who was crazy then, you or your country?" Which takes me back to Les Opinions de Jerome Coignard. Who indeed?