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How To Tell When You Are Distracted
All evidence on this blog to the contrary, I do not have ADD. When I want to, I can buckle down and focus just fine. Nothing I say in the rest of this post will prove that, but I assure you it’s true.
So I am plugging away this weekend on my new project site, the bigger, better, more powerful version of O Pegasus. This is why it’s taking me so long to get that site to beta release—
First, there was Adam Lindsay Gordon. He wrote a poem or two that is already archived on O Pegasus. I copied “How We Beat the Favourite” over to the new site and, as I was cataloging it, wondered if the horses mentioned in it were real.
A few Google searches later, and I had a biography of Adam Lindsay Gordon in my hands. Well, on my desktop. Said biography contains a plethora of annotations. I stop entering “How We Beat the Favourite” in the database and make the general record for the biography. It’s clear this book is going to be very useful.
The new biography has pictures. Lots and Lots of pictures. I begin entering the pictures into the …
Horses in Literature
Chiquita
Beautiful! Sire, you may say so. Thar isn’t her match in the country.
Is thar, old gall—Chiquita, my darling, my beauty!
Feel of that neck, sir—thar’s velvet! Who! Stady—ah, will you, you vixen!
Whoa! I say. Jack, trot her out; let the gentleman look at her paces.
Morgan!—she ain’t nothing else, and I’ve got the papers to prove it.
Sired by Chippewa Chief, and twelve hundred dollars won’t buy her.
Briggs of Tuolumne owned her. Did you know Briggs of Tuolumne?
Busted hisself in White Pine, and
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