“We learn the social map fast. Beneath the ordinary chat, jokes, kindnesses, we’re scavengers, gnawing at each other’s histories for scraps of hope” – Carole Satyamurti
“Carole Satyamurti is a poet and sociologist who lives and works in London. She teaches at the University of East London, and at the Tavistock Clinic, where her main interest is relating psychoanalytic ideas to the stories people tell about themselves, whether in formal autobiography or everyday encounters.…”
“All the action in this novel is epistolary. It is entirely made out of verbalized, communicated knowledge, reasoned argumentation and subjectively ordered narrative. Its subject-matter is sexual seduction, of course, but beyond that, in its very form it explores how discursive reason is embedded within emotivity, how emotivity may become entwined around discursive reason, and how the two manipulate and mold each other. Self-consciousness is pursued through the act of writing, during the taking-stock of emotional life.” 
There’s little as wonderful as a young dog’s nose, all black and shiny, wet and slimy, a window on a world scarcely guessed at by us, the nasally deprived. I would rather roll on the ground with a puppy than read the arch insights of scientists inferring the obvious when presented with a delicious datum associating macaque mirror neurons with human social behavior. “But, of course,” say I and I close the book. Even so, one of the things that is certainly as wonderful as the canine schnozz is a bright and attractive woman. And if her work today reflects none of my interests, well… her work yesterday certainly was impressive. And one assumes that her work tomorrow will be as well.
Trust and civility are inseparable concepts: they define a cultural system, that is, a set of presuppositions that guides “conversation” not just in its ordinary sense but also in the Latin sense of conversatio, that is, the art of conducting oneself in social interactions. In this cultural system, an honourable gentleman is precisely one who deserves to be trusted. Social practices of recognition, cultural heuristics and epistemic maxims are intertwined in the cultural constitution of any body of knowledge, science included.
– “Is Trust an Epistmological Notion?” by Gloria Origgi
But what has this to do with puppy dog noses? I submit that it is mere filler, pretty words on the screen distracting the writer from his concern for his pup. She appeared at the door this morning patiently waiting for someone with the manual skills to let her back in the house. Rather than romp, she went straight to the towel and let me dry the dew from her legs and the fur on her belly. 
I saw that her nose was bleeding. A single spot in the white fur about halfway up the muzzle toward the eye. Naturally, I blamed a cat.
I found a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and washed out the wound. It was a modest enough puncture but the swelling had already begun. Damn cat, I said. I assumed it was one of the neighbor kitties since Veneta knows how to keep her under control without inflicting obvious injuries.
Tonight when I returned the swelling had increased, and the nature of the injury was more obvious. Damn rabbit, I said. Ms. Molly Speed Racer seems to have chased a bunny straight into a briar patch. Damn briar patch. We’ll just hope that the puncture and scratches heal nicely and that no abscesses form.
I’m glad Molly has no blog. While it is true that on the Internet, no one knows you’re a dog, I’m quite sure that this particular beast would tend to stick her nose where it doesn’t belong. She’d get an email from Brockman’s list and set off stalking the intriguing people she found there.
And what about Noga, I wonder? Is she one of those beautiful young women whose brilliance is warm and welcoming or does she use high culture and high IQ to create a boundary, to intimidate? What kind of a woman is she? Would she roll up her pant legs to wade in the stream, tie her skirt in a knot to stay dry? Does she care for dogs?
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