And the sea is so much deeper than the grave

1. I read my book about Egon Schiele on the bus to Porter Square. Periodically I turned a page and the woman seated behind me (who must have been reading over my shoulder) said, "Oh, dear." I can understand this response with some of Schiele's nudes or the full-page color plate of his self-portrait masturbating, but I don't know what she objected to about the sunflowers.

2. I am tired enough that I kept misreading the titles on books in McIntyre and Moore's. I think my favorites were "How the Dead Will Sleep" and "Jane Austen Among the Women."

3. I don't know how I failed to discover Hilda Tablet back in October when I was mainlining Flanders and Swann, but I thank Yuletide for her now.¹ Does anyone know where to get recordings of the original radio plays? Also, Derek Jacobi?

4. Assuming we are not under six feet of snow, fleurdelis28, sharhaun, and I have tickets to the Stravinsky/Bartók double bill at the BSO on Friday. All credit to awhyzip. Also further evidence that Boston is a small world after all.

Five things may be supposed to make a post, but I'm going to read some Patrick Leigh Fermor and go to bed. Someday I will not have a fever. It will be exciting!

1. I turn out to like Henry Reed's poems, too.