I planted my plants

I finished reading At Swim-Two-Birds in the bath last night. The second half was much easier going than the first half: without any kind of context for the Finn MacCool stuff it was just really onerous, and pretty much meaningless for me too. I was googling it and found this quote from Dylan Thomas about the book: "This is just the book to give your sister – if she's a loud, dirty, boozy girl." Maybe I didn't enjoy it as much as I should because I'm not loud, dirty or boozy?

At work this week I've been reading "Westward the Course of Empire Takes its Way" from Girl with Curious Hair. I've had to stop myself laughing too much in the office because it's really clever and funny, but also heartfelt and insightful. It's about John Barth's "Lost in the Funhouse" which I never really liked that much; it's definitely my least favourite from that collection. Wow, that's like three generations of metafiction right there (DFW does this hellishly predictable play on "metafiction" in the context of this massive MacDonald's advert reunion: it becomes"meatfiction." Oh yeah.)

As I was cracking open the Saul Bellow I started last night I found a piece of paper representing Five Embassy Vouchers (redeemable against products from the "famous Embassy catalogue"). On the back there's some health advice for all the people frantically inhaling with the intention of getting free mugs (or w/ever):
ADVICE BY H.M. GOVERNMENT
If you do smoke cigarettes
Leave a long stub.
Remove from mouth between puffs.
Inhale less.
Take fewer puffs.

No one needs this smoking ban rubbish: inhale less! This goes for everyone; problem solved.

Here is a picture of my sprouting garlic and one of my unidentified plants. The pot full of mud will be peppers, eventually (also, oooh look at my ammonite!):