Home, Sweet Home

My Housing Specialist, Alvin, at the Criminal Shelter had me in to his office yesterday morning to tell me that there's a studio apartment virtually with my name on it a block from the university, which I'm to see him further about Monday, and then go look at myself, hopefully to rent, with all utilities included, for $172 (30% of my monthly SSI stipend). I won't believe it, really and truly, till I see it and talk to the landlady....

Meantime, as I type, I see that my "shamaan," Melchior (alias Mentor, "because there are no ell or kay sounds in my language") has come into the Science and Technology section of the main library and is wandering around looking for me. I'll go find him on the lanai, I expect, and see what he's up to. Lately he's been making plans to go to Rome to beard the Pope in his lair and ask him, "What has happened to the Catholic Church?" I tell him, "Don't bother. It's a long way to go to talk to a dumb, tactless little Nazi who has neither the brains nor the command of English to understand your question. Anything that he could tell you you already know." Still, like many another Catholic, he can't quite bring himself to believe that his Holy Father is, for all practical purposes, the Anti-Christ.

[Re-]reading Kipling since yesterday, Kim and the Jungle Books. The resemblance between the former and Huckleberry Finn is certainly obvious, once you're on to it. Nice to know and to think about Kipling and Mark Twain knowing and admiring one another and getting their honorary degrees from Oxford at the same time.