lesmels

Meant to post yesterday but stayed up till 8 in the morning reading The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood instead, which is something I've meant to do for almost 4 years. Can't say I feel overly satisfied about accomplishing this small goal but it's hard to feel satisfied with much after reading any of that horrifying big-brother, religious-zealotry, militant government shit of the future, isn't it? Naturally, I highly recommend it.

It also reminds me of just how many 'classics' no professor of mine has ever asked me to read; forcing upon me rather, the likes of Tom Hardy and Hawthorne (I fucking loathe The Scarlet Letter and honestly have yet to comprehend what lesson I was meant to derive from either). Just imagining the pitifulness of my education makes my blood boil and I almost wish my english teacher from high school were here now so I could cut my own throat and hit her in the eye with it...

But maybe I'm channeling Lisa Simpson or something... I just got back from the movie.

Also, I started Cormac McCarthy's No Country for Old Men this afternoon, solely because it's being made into a movie and I can hardly wait to criticize the film makers for falling short of the book. I'm almost peeing my pants with excitement already.

~
p.g. 35

"I'm fixin to go do somethin dumbern hell but I'm goin anyways. If I don't come back tell Mother I love her.
Your mother's dead Llewelyn.
Well I'll tell her myself then."
~

Haha, the likelihood it will shed any light on the meaning of life appears small but I suspect I will enjoy it.