lift girders

[Monte Davis]

> The funny thing is, I'm teaching _Bleak House_ and _David 
> Copperfield_... 

Hey, while you're waiting for Pynchon, re-reading Bleak House ain't hallf
bad. Is there anything in the 19th century as GR-ish as 

"Fog everywhere.  Fog up the river, where it flows among green aits
and meadows; fog down the river, where it rolls deified among the
tiers of shipping and the waterside pollutions of a great (and
dirty) city.  Fog on the Essex marshes, fog on the Kentish heights.
Fog creeping into the cabooses of collier-brigs; fog lying out on
the yards and hovering in the rigging of great ships; fog drooping
on the gunwales of barges and small boats.  Fog in the eyes and
throats of ancient Greenwich pensioners, wheezing by the firesides
of their wards; fog in the stem and bowl of the afternoon pipe of
the wrathful skipper, down in his close cabin; fog cruelly pinching
the toes and fingers of his shivering little 'prentice boy on deck.
Chance people on the bridges peeping over the parapets into a
nether sky of fog, with fog all round them, as if they were up in a
balloon and hanging in the misty clouds..."

A-and how 'bout that *Megalosaurus*, huh?