Yesterday, following a rousing day of surfing the web, emailing and reading up on the life of the recently departed Anna Nicole Smith, I shlepped myself over to school. Thursdays for some are Grey's "I'll become as bad as ER soon, give me a chance!" Anatomy night, but for me, they are Anatomy and Physiology night. Oh, the irony. I had great plans for the evening after class, so I wasn't overly anxious during class. I arrived early and began to read Wizard's First Rule, a trite-fest of a fantasy novel that uses caricatures of people to make the reader understand who the good guys are and who the bad guys are. For example, bad guys are pedophiles, murderers and rapists. Good guys save babies, promote equality and cry a lot. Anyhoo, for some reason, I can't put the damn book down (even though I've read it already), so chances are, I'll finish it (all 900 pages) before Erika and John Barleycorn finish our book club book.
Regardless, lab turned out to be a dissection of cow eyes. Come on, how awesome. I got to say, "Out, vile jelly!" while I poured the vitreous body out of the eyeball. Even better, our lens was still attached to the vitreous body, so I plopped it around on my hand and thought fondly of Dragon Warrior. Everyone should dissect an eye at some point, because they are wicked cool inside. Lining the back is this iridescent membrane thing that is greenish-blue and shines. It's hot. Hot like your face.
After class, I meandered my way over to Somerville and watched the tail end of a rousingly dramatic Grey's episode and then settled down with a dinner of popcorn and tea (mm) to watch The Descent with Devrie. As gory as the first time I saw it. Still scared me shit-less.
That is pretty much it for my day yesterday. Thrilling, I know. Today, I'm going to avoid working and try and find some food here shortly. We shall see. I miss Finale's chili, but I am unsure I want that sitting in my stomach all day. Someone amuse me, please.
Showing posts with label book club. Show all posts
Showing posts with label book club. Show all posts
Friday, February 9, 2007
Friday, February 2, 2007
Book clubs
After a grueling couple of months under the strict taskmistress that is Erika, I finished the first (and least difficult to read) selection of our Sexy Book Club (tm), Post Office. As you all know, I have long wanted to be a postal employee, spending my days in long shorts, walking through the bustling city streets to deliver girly mags, manly mags, personal letters and bills, bills, bills to the people. Right. [ir]Regardless, we (me, Jason, Tara, Erika and John Barleycorn) met up at Bukowski's (naturally) for some beer-infused conversation about the life of Chinaski, that raucous drunk who is worlds different from his creator, Charles Bukowski.
The consensus was that Jason and Tara have no taste and Erika, John and I are clearly awesome Literature-types. I kid! But I think more people should have bookclubs, because they arouse a certain sort of controlled anger, which I feel is conducive to building and maintaining strong friendships. At the end of the day, no one hated one another because someone liked Chinaski's ass all covered in geraniums and someone else liked when the book was over because it meant he or she could move on to greener literary pastures.
To follow up drunken screwing, I made an executive decision to read Neverwhere, the first novel by the inimitable Neil Gaiman, who warms my heart and my pants whenever I think of his writings. He has a greater imagination than almost anyone I have encountered either in person or in writing. This may be because he tends to write about fantasy worlds on the cusp of our own, which seem to be such a small step to the side of our reality as to almost seem believable. But I don't want to rant about Neil here; I'll save that for the bookclub.
In other news, life continues on as life tends to do. Not that I want it not to, but you know, it does and that's that. It seems some people whose pseudonyms resemble taco bell have an issue with my old-school MUD name from High School. So! I am changing it. but not to my real name; rather, to the name I could only be so lucky to have.
Love and buttercups,
Henry Tilney
p.s. - What would he have to say about me writing a journal and signing off as him. LOL!
The consensus was that Jason and Tara have no taste and Erika, John and I are clearly awesome Literature-types. I kid! But I think more people should have bookclubs, because they arouse a certain sort of controlled anger, which I feel is conducive to building and maintaining strong friendships. At the end of the day, no one hated one another because someone liked Chinaski's ass all covered in geraniums and someone else liked when the book was over because it meant he or she could move on to greener literary pastures.
To follow up drunken screwing, I made an executive decision to read Neverwhere, the first novel by the inimitable Neil Gaiman, who warms my heart and my pants whenever I think of his writings. He has a greater imagination than almost anyone I have encountered either in person or in writing. This may be because he tends to write about fantasy worlds on the cusp of our own, which seem to be such a small step to the side of our reality as to almost seem believable. But I don't want to rant about Neil here; I'll save that for the bookclub.
In other news, life continues on as life tends to do. Not that I want it not to, but you know, it does and that's that. It seems some people whose pseudonyms resemble taco bell have an issue with my old-school MUD name from High School. So! I am changing it. but not to my real name; rather, to the name I could only be so lucky to have.
Love and buttercups,
Henry Tilney
p.s. - What would he have to say about me writing a journal and signing off as him. LOL!
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