Dave texted me last week. He said he done bought me Finnegans Wake, because he somehow knew that was the long sought-after book that I was longly seeking the most. Thaine wisely said one drunken night, on a rock, that I liked the ideas behind the stories better than the stories themselves a lot of the time. I think he's pretty much on about that. I likes me good writing--I strive for it from time to time. But I appreciate a good challenge on the artist's part and the reader's part, and it quite seems that Finnegans Wake is the epitome of all that jazz. I was all like, "I'm gonna watch a movie and finish Slaughterhouse-Five and do some other junk" and then the UPS guy dropped off a package and it was Finnegans Wake and I was all like "F that S" and sat and read the 25-page introduction--and then a page-and-a-half of the actual story, which, incidentally, I had listened to read so many times that I could pronounce most of the words. Good for me. And good for Dave, who is the most amazing person and who rocks continually with much righteousness. And not because he got me a present.
2 comments:
how you gonna headbutt a gift like that?
It was a weak excuse to explain why I took the picture with a waacky filter that made the midle of the picture bow out a little.
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