On Loneliness, Part II: For David, Whoever He May Be

David, you who were sent here by Joy W, must be worth writing to, for Joy herself is so wonderful.

I feel less isolated, less lonely today. Rather than immersing myself in Carson McCullers, I'm reading things that make me laugh. I'm reading The Crying of Lot 49, not Wodehouse, although Wodehouse was not a bad suggestion. And while Lot 49 is funny to me, Oedipa Maas, like McCullers, seems disconnected from her world too. And, of course, all the men that she wants to rely on-her husband, her shrink--let her down. Maybe it's just the 20th century where we all feel disconnected, wanting to love, wanting to communicate, knowing only that we feel.

Just thinking about Jeeves and Wooster makes me giggle. I recommend to everyone the BBC / A&E series with Hugh Laurie (spelling???) of House fame. Hugh Laurie seems to be my theme for the week. More on that later.

Anyway, maybe reading and writing, simply going through the motions of trying to communicate is the antidote to loneliness. Words, words, words. Dolce Carina, you know what I mean.

I think that each chapter of Lot 49 deserves its own blog entry!