It would be kind of geeky-neat to have a cardigan sweater with literary buttons, don't you think? I've got robot buttons on order, but I'm saving them for another planned cardigan project.
Things to ponder. At any rate, I'm hoping to finish this cardigan in time to wear it to the Banff Centre this fall. I keep forgetting how chilly it can be up there, and although I remember to take knitted socks, I neglect to pack a good sweater. Consequently, I shiver through my residencies. Not next time.
A splendid day on the whole. I went to visit my friend and her incredibly beautiful and splendid six week old baby girl. This baby girl makes the most astonishing noises from both ends. Looking at newborn diaper contents, though, is like looking into the face of Cthulhu. I mean, these lines?
They had shape...but that shape was not made of matter. When the stars were right, They could plunge from world to world through the sky...
Or this one?
The odour rising from the newly opened depths was intolerable, and at length the quick-eared Hawkins thought he heard a nasty, slopping sound down there. Everyone listened, and everyone was listening still when It lumbered slobberingly into sight and gropingly squeezed Its gelatinous green immensity through the black doorway into the tainted outside air of that poison city of madness.
Oh, yeah. That's totally baby diaper. Or this:
Who knows the end? What has risen may sink, and what has sunk may rise.
Oh, boy, yes.
Any of those passages could describe newborn baby diaper. Surely Lovecraft had an infant in his life when he was writing about the Old Ones. I feel this when staring into the green-filled abyss of a dirty newborn baby diaper: the sense that if a person were to look too long, they would surely go mad.
