I would like to make the point clear that this post is not a day late because I've taken some time off work and thus got distracted and forgot, NO! It's that this particular blogpost was going to be so awesome that I needed a full extra day to emotionally and mentally prepare myself for having eventually written it.
But then in the course of that extra day, I spent way longer than is justifiable or proper for an adult man to play Super Mario Land 3D on the Wii U and sort of totally forgot what that mindgasm of a post was supposed to be about.
Now I'm tapping this out with my thumbs on my iPhone in a bed not my own, trying to concentrate on crafting a quality word picture for you, but failing as I craft new strategies for defeating an oversized kleptomaniac lizard-king with rage issues with a limited arsenal of fireballs and jumping. Well, not real jumping, but pressing the buttons in the correct sequence to affect the jump animation of the digital avatar doubling for the deepest Jungian wants of my human soul.
Oh! That's what I was going to write about: my end of the year wrap-up. Mostly it was going to be about what books I read, but do you really want to hear me bitch about "Gravity's Rainbow" some more? Just to briefly summarize, I've been reading a lot of classic mostly 20th century literature and if I could, standing outside of it now with the perspective-making arbitrary lever of the calendar year, I'd say the main takeaway is that I should probably seek preemptive professional help ahead of the onset of a crippling depression. At a certain point, enough Dickens and Orwell can only be a cry for help.
Let's see if we can't make 2014 the year of taking ourselves less seriously.
Except still: fuck Thomas Pynchon.
Friday, December 27, 2013
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2 comments:
Awwww I would have loved to hear about what books you read. :(
OK, but I went super-nerdy as I tried to literature myself up.
Native Son (Richard Wright)
Gravity's Rainbow (Thomas Pynchon)
Lolita (V. Nabokov)
Darkness at Noon (Arthur Koestler)
Red Harvest (Dashiell Hammett)
Slaughterhouse Five (Vonnegut)
For Whom the Bell Tolls (Hemingway)
The Old Man and the Sea (also Hemingway)
1984 (Orwell)
A Tale of Two Cities (Dickens)
I also read two comedy memoirs, one by Steve Martin and one by British TV guy David Mitchell (not the guy who wrote Cloud Atlas).
At least I think those were all this year. By the end of the last one (Native Son), I was so depressed by all the heavy subject matter I have resolved only to read things where the subject matter is either sports or kittens in the immediate future.
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