[lit-ideas] Re: gigawatt chivalrous inflammatory handyman drainage
- From: "Michael Geary" <atlas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- To: <lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Tue, 6 Apr 2004 17:15:37 -0500
Thank you, David. I am currently reading McCarthy's Bar as per your
recommendation which was passed along to me by Sir JL Speranza and yourself.
Do you like my subject line (gigawatt chivalrous inflammatory handyman
drainage)? It was the subject line of a breast enlargement spam I received.
I found it intriguing. "Inflammatory handyman drainage" is certainly
colorful and certainly a proper subject for discussion by philosophical folk
as well as medicine men. But it's the "gigawatt chivalrous" that fascinates
me. It's like Sir Gawain giving off sparks. Go, Sir Gawain, go! But how
does it all fit together? The words, I assume, are the random gift of the
spammer's computer. But so is all life a random event. So it's randomness
we must order into meaning. Here is a perfect phrase to practice on, say I.
I suggest a contest to determine what that subject line is all about.
Remember it's just a verbal Rorschach, not a line of Scripture, there is no
answer except the judge's prejudice. The contest should be judged by
JulieReneB. who is probably the only person on list willing to read every
entry. But what's in it for you? Prizes, that's what! Second prize will
be a poem from me. First prize is no poem. Go ahead, now. Show how sick
you really are.
Mike Geary
disqualifying himself.
----- Original Message -----
From: "David Ritchie" <ritchierd@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
To: <lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
Sent: Tuesday, April 06, 2004 2:38 PM
Subject: [lit-ideas] Re: gigawatt chivalrous inflammatory handyman drainage
> Welcome back. Here, in the vein of "What does it feel like," is an
atypical
> excerpt from Tony Horwitz, "Blue Latitudes," which is "about" Captain Cook
> only in the manner that his previous book, "Confederates in the Attic" was
> "about" the Civil War. It's good.
>
> The section below takes place in Alaska. In my humble opinion, it uses
the
> tale teller's "that's when..." just beautifully:
>
> Seven years ago, Rick had flown with two women colleagues to survey a
> remote archaeological site. As they swooped low over the island, the
> helicopter's rotor slowed and then snapped. The women began hugging and
> praying as the pilot prepared to crash-land. "I wasn't that worried,"
Rick
> said. "I'd bounced off runways in bush planes and figured it would be
like
> that."
>
> Instead the helicopter hit and "pitch-poled," catapulting end over
end.
> When Rick came to, he felt spray on his face: blood spurting from an
artery
> in the pilot's gashed head. The two women seemed to have been crushed by
> the wreckage. Rick had a bone sticking out of his finger, a broken foot,
> cracked vertebrae, and ruptured instestines. The pilot somehow staunched
> his own wound and put out a fire before the fuel tank exploded. He and
Rick
> extracted one of the women and the three lay on the ground shocked and
> bleeding.
>
> "That's when the grizzly burst out of the woods," Rick said. "It was
> spring, he was hungry, and we were covered in blood--his favorite sauce."
>
> The pilot chased the bear off by firing a flare. Eventually, the
> helicopter's emergency beacon drew rescue helicopters. Miraculously, all
> four passengers survived.
>
> David Ritchie
> Portland, Oregon
>
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