Summer Saga Pt. 3

Times are grim. Like a rocket that's used up all its fuel before reaching its target, I feel I've exhausted myself in my summer reading. I'm not sure how it happened, but I'm having trouble bringing myself to sit down, relax, and just waste time (if waste it is) reading. Perhaps it's due to Les Miserables, which I finished about two weeks ago. Perhaps it's due to the book I started next, Catch-22, not being what I expected and resulting in a slight let-down. Or perhaps it's simply a phase that I've entered; one where knowledge, relaxation, and enjoyment aren't welcome. I don't know.

Catch-22, while being a term used by myself at least once a week, was to be a new read for me, and I began it shortly after I finished Les Miserables. I confess, though, that I did fit Douglas Adams' Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency in before I started Heller's book. Catch-22 is an amusing read, as it reminds me of British humor, but without the accent. The dialogue between characters is hilarious and totally outrageous in that it makes no sense, and I like that. The problem I'm having, I believe, stems from the intellectual and all-encompassing literary high I was on from Les Mis. Catch-22 doesn't seem to be going anywhere, and I've decided I don't like it for that reason. I'm not saying it isn't a literary masterpiece, but it just isn't hitting the spot at the moment. I put it aside, but rest assured, I will finish it someday soon. I do not leave books unfinished as it is against my nature to leave anything half done. The bookmark is still in the book.

The summer saga continues then with Player Piano by Kurt Vonnegut, my longtime friend and advisor (of course, he doesn't know that and unfortunately, now, won't ever know). Player Piano was his first novel and I can tell that the style is definitely Vonnegut, but has a sense of being different from his later works. It reminds me of a conversation I was having with Utz (also a longtime friend and advisor, and he knows it). We were driving and listening to the classical radio station and he was endeavouring to determine the period the work was from. Little motifs the composer placed in the music could be all you need to tell Baroque from Classical, or Romantic. In the same way, you can see subtle differences in writing style or content of one author from book to book. Vonnegut is one of my favorite authors and it's very cool, to use a ridiculously simple phrase, to see that difference. I highly recommend him.

Mind Fog

I choose a place to sit and think
And wander in my mind.
To be alone with no one else
All things are to the hind.

My head is full of thoughts and cares
That rain like cats and dogs
Shoving, sifting, sieving, straining,
Akin to winter's fog.

To hone the mind and calm the soul,
To relax and be set free;
When in this place a taxing thought
Relief is hard to see.

I wait and like the waves on the beach,
My thoughts, they're briefly fractured.
Though gaily through my mind they flew,
Their wings are now all tattered.

Labyrinthine

Have you ever had one of those moments where your mind begins fathoming so many topics at once, that time seems to slow? A moment that lasts for several moments, even a gross amount of moments? It's like having one of those garden labyrinths suddenly springing to life inside my mind. I become lost in a tangled trough of trepidation that actually leads to one conclusion, but through multiple paths. They happen frequently to me as of late.

I used to attribute it to daydreaming, but since I wasn't doing anything exciting, like blowing cars up with my mind or flying a really sweet fighter plane, I decided it wasn't daydreaming. I was examining some fact, instance, or event from different angles, calling on past experiences or knowledge of history to further understand the one item I was analyzing. It wasn't quite unlike Victor Hugo in Les Mis - the way he would tangent on some small item of interest that would turn out to change the whole course of events later on. Is that impressive? Who knows? Most people think I'm just zoned out, not listening. Half the time, my thoughts are on something that, in my intense analytical deconstruction, leads me to a very depressing train depot of conclusions. I've learned to not log or record those conclusions. The other times, it's refreshing to be able to come at something from different sides and come to a reasonable decision that I won't regret later.

I'm not sure yet if this is the ultimate way to think, but it seems much more efficient than just having a problem presented to you and guessing, or going with your gut. I'm not saying you can't go with your gut, but there should be some process by which you conclude your gut has the right course of action. Most people these days, in my opinion, don't look before they leap, and people like that die! (metaphysically speaking). You don't even have to do one of these extreme deconstructions, but just use your frakin' head (pardon my BSG language) and common sense. A pity that common sense is not so common, as Voltaire would put it.

Clarification

Firstly, a quick aside (knowing full well that I haven't even started writing yet and therefore couldn't possibly have an aside to go off to just yet, but you know what, roll with it. Think of it as a block of written words that have all been indented together, such that you think them very important and imposing). I do not, I believe, have a swollen ego. I like to have friends and don't mind being the topic of conversation, though I fake being upset about it (at times). Among other things, I don't think about myself either, nor have aspirations at being somebody completely famous and important. All that to say, I do not like blogging. I really couldn't care less if anybody actually reads what I write or go to links I think might interest people. It doesn't matter. You could hand me a flaming bucket of sour kraut and I will act as interested in that as I do with blogging. I do however, have an intense desire to write, and to put it somewhere where I can easily access it and have other people read it if I so choose to make them aware of the location. I thought it very important to clear that up. Now back to the beginning of the story.

Woe! Woe to the designer of Woodinville-Redmond Road and 127th Place NE. The intersection that is from, leads to, and looks remarkable similar to hell can be found there. May flaming coals be heaped upon his head with no other provocation than for simply thinking of this intersection, let alone actually allowing its implementation. It's no wonder that so many traffikitus boredus terminatus (death from sitting bored in traffic) cases are found near here. No doubt the city, county, and state have already hired the best lawyers to cast blame on some naturally occurring flora or fauna that abound only at that conjoining of two roads. Should we sit by idling or should we rev the engines of change and demand justice?! I for one will no longer just sit and watch the seconds of my life tick away whilst screeching brakes, obscene bus waiters, topless old men joggers, snob nosed bicyclists, and the same old billboards cacaphonize into a hideous din all around me. I just won't.

Inexpressible

There is something indescribably satisfying about completing a 1463 page classic novel in 16 days; a novel by which your entire range of emotions was not merely placated, but was accosted right and left by the most heinous of extremes. Les Miserables has left me with impressions and emotional memories that I believe I will not soon forget. On the one hand, there was the misery (hence the name) that was indigenous to almost every major character. Victor Hugo did a remarkable job of describing the totality of sorrow that a person could endure, which in fact was the result of the love of one or more persons. To read about love leading to such sadness for the one who's loving...it goes beyond my ability to comprehend. It's the ultimate sacrifice; to give up your existence (but continue to live) so that another can have a normal life. Words fail me.

Then there was the happiness, which I'll be honest, I was surprised to read about. I thought the entire book would be about sad people; you can't have sad without happy, though. Hugo did an incredible job at describing the pure joy and ecstasy inherent to certain moments. I found myself almost weeping, well crying, well tearing up, at both the sorrowful and joyful events. This is probably one of only two books that has ever moved me to the point of actual tearing up, I don't mind telling you. Unfortunately, I can't name the other one, but that's beside the point.

It's 12:38a on Tuesday, June 17, 2007, and I didn't want to wait until morning to write my first impressions upon completion. I may have to read it again in just a few months. That's how incredible it is to me. Welcome to the book at the top of my list. More to follow.

Summer Saga Pt. 2

Well Gents and Ladies, I've made it beyond the 1100 page mark in Les Mis and it feels phenomenal. I'm on the final part of the book, the one entitled Jean Valjean. I'm really excited to find out how it's going to end. So far, a riot has started and we just finished following the exploits of a barricade that had been established. It was riotous, to say the least.

What's next you ask? Well, there are several options.

Player Piano - Kurt Vonnegut
Neverwhere - Neil Griman
Jupiter - Ben Bova
Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency - Douglas Adams
What do you care what other people think? - Richard Feynman
Catch-22 - Joseph Heller

All of these will of course be read. It's simply a matter of choosing in what order to read them. The saga will continue, don't worry.

Untitled

Oh! What ache torments the soul;
The soul that is the backbone to living.
The pain from sorrow,
crippling; absolutely.
Can it be undone?
Why does it exist?
The need; the desire;
the want; the wish?

The most terrible of blows

A thousand times a day

What antidote would cure?
What remedy prescribed?
Could it be destiny; to live
in this throe?

To never know?

Reflections

Well, I'm here at the Lyons' Den, A Coffee Shoppe. There is no air conditioning here, it's slightly muggy and warm outside, my favorite seat is taken by some foreign exchange students, I'm taking my first draught of an iced americano (no room), I'm about to start working on the powerpoint for a church and I'm feelin' good.

Folks, there's nothing that screams introspective opportunities, quiet reflection, and plain old good times like an independent coffee shop, or shoppe. I can't tell you how glad I am that it is Friday and that I can spend my Friday evening alone; working, reading or even studying. Would I choose to have companionship? Yes, I would even welcome it/he/she with open arms, talk with it/them, and listen to its/their concerns and woes. But...there would have to come the time when you do what you came to this place to do. I didn't originally plan to come here alone, but fate has seemed to say that that is the way it's going to be. Do I feel irked? Not at all.

Let this be a lesson to myself in the future and to anyone that ever gazes upon these words. Do what you planned to do in the place that you planned to do it. All other activities serve only to augment that which you planned to do. Do or do not; there is no try. Yoda. Good man.

Erudite Conflagrations

I moved from Sacramento, CA for one simple purpose: to pursue my life goals. Sounds like a cheap reason? It probably is but that doesn't mean it's not true. Double negatives, btw, are a strong firmament on which I build my prose. I find them ridiculous and though they may be frowned upon, I find them a refreshing moniker for myself. A synecdoche if you will; the part representing the whole. Back to life goals. I moved for several distinct and valid reasons (well, valid to me).

1. To go to school for engineering at UW (since translated [math usage] to physics).
2. To room with somebody I knew (trevor, who went and got himself married, bless his heart).
3. To avoid a disastrous summer of centenarian degree days.

Today was 101° in Woodinville, WA where I work. I do not approve of this weather and therefore having complained about it, I will now think happier thoughts and pray that it's not like this tomorrow.

Life goal update: it's going well.

Summer Saga Pt. 1

I'm reading Les Miserables this summer, on the recommendation from a very nice barista I happened to talk to at the Lyon's Den coffee den (redundancy allowed) in Bothell. I had been reading (and have since finished [that night in fact]) The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. A marvelous book that has a fantastic ending (even if you know it) and therefore should be read all the way through, regardless of how you feel during the book.

Anyway, this pleasant barista inquired as to what I was reading and I said,

"The Picture of Dorian Gray," to which she replied,

"I've always wanted to read that. Have you read Les Mis?"

Unfortunately, I had to say no, it had never really peaked my interest. NOT UNTIL NOW! Anyway, it would be wrong for me to say that I wasn't a little intrigued by this girl who was clearly learned in literature, but regardless, I went and bought the book the first chance I got and am now over 500 pages into it. I've completed the first two primary book sections and they were amazing.

I'm well on my way to declaring this one of the best books ever. It may very well reach my top 5, at the least my top 10. Maybe later I'll actually think about what my top 10 favorite books are and will post them here. Obviously, as I read more, the list may change.