Monday, October 18, 2004

"Quit putting that ball sack on my head!"

Okay, so that may or may not sound like a funny thing to say to you, and before we go any further, let me just say that it wasn't me who said it. It was Jason. I was rubbing it all over him, and he just is not into it as I am. Of course, I am referring to the great piece of literature Old Goriot by Balzac, as I'm sure you've already deduced. For the past year and a half-ish, I have been methodically attacking a list of "classic" literature that I want to read, and since I just finished Gogol's Dead Souls yesterday, this is the random next selection (by the way, Gogol never really finished Dead Souls, the book literally ends in the middle of a sentence, and has many unfinished sentences throughout because the manuscript was torn or whatever....anyway, I think if he was too lazy to finish it, then why did I bother to read it? Man, that really cheeses me off. Anyhoo, I can't say I recommend it, unless of course you have a real taste for Russian crap, because this was a supreme example of Russian crap).

I could be reading Balzac right now, except my nose is stuffed up, and when my nose is stuffed, my eyes water, and so I cannot read. I can't really see the computer screen either, so I am just typing blindly here. I have sifted through many many "great" books in the last little while, and I have to say, MAN DO I MISS MY E.B. WHITE. I mean, stories about orphans and 19th century England are great (and by that I mean boring and wordy....hello, thank god we have editors now!) but nothing beats a story about a talking pig, know what I mean?

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