I haven't written anything of consequence in a long time. Or maybe ever. I finally finished reading Notes From Underground this morning while I was driving to work. And, really, just Wow. I love it very much and, on Kurt's thoughts that the Brothers Karmazov contain all the answers to life, I think that will be my next read.
Except that I kind of want to pick up Anna Karinina too... or Catch-22... or The Stranger... and read it correctly this time. Not like a kid in a sub-par English class in a sub-par high school. Yes. I think that's what I shall do. It was recommended to me to read To Kill a Mockingbird (which I should do), Angels & Demons (ehh... probably not...), The Road Less Traveled (by Peck?? Again, probably not), and Still Life with Woodpecker. That last one seems quite interesting too.
But I'll still probably go with Camus.
Since last time, there has been a filboyd studge album recorded by myself and my friends.
www.filboydstudge.com. You may go hear and listen. Fair warning: It is not "good," nor was it intended to be "good." Which is not a statement to ward off criticism. Just don't expect much. Berlioz, it's not.
Walk the Line was good.
Harry Potter was incredibly boring. Again.
I've also recently learned why people underline. While reading something I can't understand, the underline has become a tool of great worth. It draws my attention to the sentences I don't understand, which helps my ADD ass focus on it and actually comprehend without having to read the first three words 17 times over and over and over and over and...
I've also been told to checkout
Pinback
Sea and the Cake
bands. I'm telling myself that so I don't forget.
I'm glad noone ever taught the world to sing.
I know you've gone
on your own way
Noone should bear
these words I'm about to say
these words I'm about to say
I see you've climbed
up your own tree
the rope has been raised
so I wax pathetically
so I wax pathetically
Labels: _self, Dostoevsky, music