Absalooooooong.

I really like this book, but it's a difficult read. It's taking me forever. I've completed a second novel and begun a third while reading it. And I still haven't read my assigned reading for this week.

I feel like analyzing this book would be like being assigned an archaelogical dig space the size of Supten's Hundred and told to unearth the important things, but not having any clue what these might be, and having to archive the finds in a made up language code that can't be spoken out loud.

I knew I'm going to have to re read them all. Dying, Sanctuary, and eventually Sound, because there are these sentences every once in a while in Faulkner that I find are core pieces of the puzzle. If I could (I should just be post-it tagging them, duh, I couldn't make it THAT easy on myself) I would have the quotes needed for a major thesis, perhaps my senior one. Silly, isn't it? That I should just be itty bitty me and what ever it is I think I've got somebody else has probably laid claim to long ago, but I'm too invested, too invovled. I'll slip it in between tea and vacuuming. Like, religious studies,laundry, paint toenails, watch Jeopardy!, LOST, and The Tudors, paint watercolors with my neice, write thesis on the real invisible narrator of Faulkner that is channeled through all major storytelling charaters (could it be called, Faulkner's Ghost? or The Invisible Southern Judge?), polish granite counter tops, scrub toilettes, sweep balcony, memorize Biology, sleep (in).

I have a new XBOX, and I'm too afraid to get a game. But it's a magnificient console, beautiful even. It looks nice just sitting there.

Oh, last night of my Spring Break, you are divine. Your baby pink sunset is heart-breaking. Your city lights are happy. (Next break -- New York, Boston, and New Orleans -- but not in that order. Volunteer work in New Orleans. I wonder where Faulkner was burried?)