Mark Twain Fried Chicken

[snurri]

Mark Twain Fried Chicken
Originally uploaded by Snurri.

Chicago's been kind of a lonely place lately, so I decided to turn 36 in Hannibal, Missouri. I didn't meet any ghosts, but I saw a lot of statues and several young fellows who may or may not aspire to become Huck and/or Tom. (Apparently, there is a tradition in Hannibal where a boy and a girl of the appropriate age are chosen to be Tom Sawyer and Becky Thatcher for the year. Hm.) I did not spend $70 on a set of Tom Sawyer/Huck Finn volumes illustrated by Norman Rockwell. I did go to the Mark Twain cave. I did not ride on a riverboat. I did eat a steak at a restaurant that was once a whorehouse. Also, I did take pictures, so my Flickr account actually has something on it now.

Also, ouch.

Comments

[snurri.livejournal.com]

Oh, yeah, I wasn't saying I thought it was group therapy of the good variety. I was kind of creeped out by the level of rationalization on display (although I couldn't have articulated it then), and by the way they hovered around me as if I was fresh meat. (The only time I've felt that weirded out was during my one visit to a Scientology center.) And of course the illness as a weakness of faith. Strange thinking. I'll buy that there is a psychosomatic component to health, but that's taking it too far.

[yuki-onna.livejournal.com]

Well, it's a dying faith. There's not many left, and hardly any of them are young, so they do tend to vulture any new faces. I keep threatening to take my river-compatriots to a service, which I think would be hilarious, since one of them has asthma and probably could not make it through a service without horking on her inhaler.

But then, I have kind of a sick sense of humor.

[snurri.livejournal.com]

Hee! That would be an expedition; get a pack o' folks to sit in the second row, sucking on inhalers, popping antihistamines, giving themselves insulin injections . . .