10.9.09
28.8.09
16.8.09
29.7.09
20.7.09
13.7.09
12.7.09
9.7.09
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29.6.09
28.6.09
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19.5.09
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5.5.09
17.3.09
hello again
by me
because the internet needs simplistic watchmen fanart right now like it needs inspirational posters, lolcats, and twilight fanfiction.
I thought the movie was very good and entertaining, the acting was a bit flat here and there but my imagination gives an excellent performance to live up to, so its not surprising that a few lines rang sour for me. Obviously not as good as the book, but still very good considering it had to be condensed into a feature film.
by me
because the internet needs simplistic watchmen fanart right now like it needs inspirational posters, lolcats, and twilight fanfiction.
I thought the movie was very good and entertaining, the acting was a bit flat here and there but my imagination gives an excellent performance to live up to, so its not surprising that a few lines rang sour for me. Obviously not as good as the book, but still very good considering it had to be condensed into a feature film.
2.3.09
hello again
I have accumulated a lot of books in the past few months, in truth I probably have enough to quit my life and read full time for a year or two.
These are the books I most want to read at the moment, increasing in intensity as you go down the list:
Two People- A.A. Milne
Doctor Faustus- Thomas Mann
The Brothers Karmazov- Fyodor Dostoevsky
Lolita- Vladimir Nabokov
The Divine Comedy- Durante degli Alighieri
Paradise Lost- John Milton
Thus Spake Zarathrustra- Friedrich Nietzsche
As I Lay Dying- William Faulkner
The Sun Also Rises- Ernest Hemingway
I'm open to strongly worded suggestions also.
I have every other book by Hemingway apart from The Sun Also Rises, though his posthumous publications are all in paperback, because I've been holding out to get a nice copy. I have too much to read at the moment though, so I've read far too little of it. I'm probably going to give in and buy one that has a little chunk out of the cover soon though, because I really want to read it. My brother has my copy of Paradise Lost, my sister has Two People, and I don't have As I lay Dying, Lolita, or Thus Spake Zarathrustra. The latter of which I'll probably have to order in, the others I should be able to get secondhand.
I'm reading The Castle right now, hopefully I can get the others soon. I'm thinking of starting with Lolita after I'm done with The Castle [Kafka], assuming I can find a copy cheaply.
I have accumulated a lot of books in the past few months, in truth I probably have enough to quit my life and read full time for a year or two.
These are the books I most want to read at the moment, increasing in intensity as you go down the list:
Two People- A.A. Milne
Doctor Faustus- Thomas Mann
The Brothers Karmazov- Fyodor Dostoevsky
Lolita- Vladimir Nabokov
The Divine Comedy- Durante degli Alighieri
Paradise Lost- John Milton
Thus Spake Zarathrustra- Friedrich Nietzsche
As I Lay Dying- William Faulkner
The Sun Also Rises- Ernest Hemingway
I'm open to strongly worded suggestions also.
I have every other book by Hemingway apart from The Sun Also Rises, though his posthumous publications are all in paperback, because I've been holding out to get a nice copy. I have too much to read at the moment though, so I've read far too little of it. I'm probably going to give in and buy one that has a little chunk out of the cover soon though, because I really want to read it. My brother has my copy of Paradise Lost, my sister has Two People, and I don't have As I lay Dying, Lolita, or Thus Spake Zarathrustra. The latter of which I'll probably have to order in, the others I should be able to get secondhand.
I'm reading The Castle right now, hopefully I can get the others soon. I'm thinking of starting with Lolita after I'm done with The Castle [Kafka], assuming I can find a copy cheaply.
15.2.09
hello again
It has been about two months since i have had a real non-how-about-I-just-stick-in-a-webcomic-post, so I figured I ought to stick in a few sentences in here this evening.
I've grown to be alright with school to a certain extent, I can get through work without any real hassles. Right now the only real problem I have is setting goals for myself. It's not that I can't work towards a goal, I just can't seem to find a goal that's viable or interesting enough to suit me right now. I keep telling myself that I'm going to write a novel, but I've decided to work on that off and on until summer.
I really ought to be throwing myself into my schoolwork, but I find my classes a tad boring sometimes. It's not that the subjects aren't interesting, it's just that I don't like the way they're being taught. I can't say it's doing wonders for my study habits; I don't bring a notebook book to class, and my readings are done in the hour before class, if at all.
I doubt I'm going to take psych next year. I like the idea of psychology, but I suppose I want to just sit around and access cognitive awareness by thinking and talking and using my gut. It's not that I don't think that the science of it can be interesting, but what I'm being taught is so shallow in some ways, and I can't shake the feeling that in the next decade or so all of todays psychology will just have turned out to be useless.
English I like to an extent, but it seems every time I write an essay it gets a little worse. It's as if I only had a certain amount of formal essays in me when I was born and I've run dry. Formal essays just strike me more and more as formulaic though, and I don't have the patience anymore to breath the life into them any more. I'm probably just lazy.
I have no real complaints about philosophy, there's no much to know and argue that just requires you to be bright. Which is all I am. I'm forget facts easily, I'm not well read, or particularly knowledgeable. Though at times modern standards have dropped to make me seem a great deal more knowledgeable than I am, in the larger scheme of things I'm tremendously ignorant.
Philosophy doesn't command you to accept anything, but encourages you to study everything.
The only problem is that philosophizing isn't a career. There's absolutely no money to be made out of it. None.
I can use it for other things: for writing books, for going into politics, for just general insight into virtually any field, but I can't expect it to be an end unto itself.
There's a lot more to this train of thought, but I've gone on long enough and it's late and I haven't been getting enough sleep lately.
It has been about two months since i have had a real non-how-about-I-just-stick-in-a-webcomic-post, so I figured I ought to stick in a few sentences in here this evening.
I've grown to be alright with school to a certain extent, I can get through work without any real hassles. Right now the only real problem I have is setting goals for myself. It's not that I can't work towards a goal, I just can't seem to find a goal that's viable or interesting enough to suit me right now. I keep telling myself that I'm going to write a novel, but I've decided to work on that off and on until summer.
I really ought to be throwing myself into my schoolwork, but I find my classes a tad boring sometimes. It's not that the subjects aren't interesting, it's just that I don't like the way they're being taught. I can't say it's doing wonders for my study habits; I don't bring a notebook book to class, and my readings are done in the hour before class, if at all.
I doubt I'm going to take psych next year. I like the idea of psychology, but I suppose I want to just sit around and access cognitive awareness by thinking and talking and using my gut. It's not that I don't think that the science of it can be interesting, but what I'm being taught is so shallow in some ways, and I can't shake the feeling that in the next decade or so all of todays psychology will just have turned out to be useless.
English I like to an extent, but it seems every time I write an essay it gets a little worse. It's as if I only had a certain amount of formal essays in me when I was born and I've run dry. Formal essays just strike me more and more as formulaic though, and I don't have the patience anymore to breath the life into them any more. I'm probably just lazy.
I have no real complaints about philosophy, there's no much to know and argue that just requires you to be bright. Which is all I am. I'm forget facts easily, I'm not well read, or particularly knowledgeable. Though at times modern standards have dropped to make me seem a great deal more knowledgeable than I am, in the larger scheme of things I'm tremendously ignorant.
Philosophy doesn't command you to accept anything, but encourages you to study everything.
The only problem is that philosophizing isn't a career. There's absolutely no money to be made out of it. None.
I can use it for other things: for writing books, for going into politics, for just general insight into virtually any field, but I can't expect it to be an end unto itself.
There's a lot more to this train of thought, but I've gone on long enough and it's late and I haven't been getting enough sleep lately.
4.2.09
27.1.09
16.1.09
hello again
I was in a fast food restaurant eating a bacon cheeseburger combo today when a man sat his kid down in the booth next to mine and then went up to order.
I was trying to read at the time, and as such was too cool to look up.
The father came back a few moments later and informed his son that the restaurant was all out of chocolate sundaes and inquired if a vanilla one would alright.
Apparently that would not be alright because the kid curled himself into a ball and began to cry.
The Father insisted that if the boy didn't stop making a scene and decide on whether or not a vanilla sundae would suffice, then they would leave.
The kid, calmed himself down enough to whimper a begrudging grunt of affirmation that satisfied his father enough that went off back to place the new order.
The boy sniffed for a moment, then sat upright with his hands on the table, and exclaimed loudly in a mournful tone that far exceeded both his predicament and age: "Why do these things always happen to me!?!" And pounded his hands on the table a bit, and then collapsed weeping, his head buried in his hands.
What was striking about it to me is that what I got from the kid wasn't childish anger, but rather incredibly deep and genuine despair. His life was now a sea of anguish, he would have to settle for a vanilla sundae.
I was watching all of this out of the corner of my eye, and laughing almost audibly at this point. He turned to me for a second, either because he'd barely heard me chuckling, or just out of realization that his dramatic soliloque had taken place right in front of me. I glanced up for a plit second, up as if I had noticed him turn in my direction. I really got a good look at him then [generally I creep with my peripherals] and I realized that he was a little punk. His black tuque was all covered with a tiny skull pattern, and he had on a baggy blacksweatshirt. I didn't look up long enough to see how old he was, but he was glaring at me and his scowl made him look around six or seven, too old at least to be weeping so sincerely. All of this only made it funnier, so I went back to my book more sericously so that I would stop being such a creeper. Which must have worked, because I can't remember how the vanilla sundae was recieved or how or when they left.
ALSO: My internet's back up in my house, so I'll start posting now and again.
I was in a fast food restaurant eating a bacon cheeseburger combo today when a man sat his kid down in the booth next to mine and then went up to order.
I was trying to read at the time, and as such was too cool to look up.
The father came back a few moments later and informed his son that the restaurant was all out of chocolate sundaes and inquired if a vanilla one would alright.
Apparently that would not be alright because the kid curled himself into a ball and began to cry.
The Father insisted that if the boy didn't stop making a scene and decide on whether or not a vanilla sundae would suffice, then they would leave.
The kid, calmed himself down enough to whimper a begrudging grunt of affirmation that satisfied his father enough that went off back to place the new order.
The boy sniffed for a moment, then sat upright with his hands on the table, and exclaimed loudly in a mournful tone that far exceeded both his predicament and age: "Why do these things always happen to me!?!" And pounded his hands on the table a bit, and then collapsed weeping, his head buried in his hands.
What was striking about it to me is that what I got from the kid wasn't childish anger, but rather incredibly deep and genuine despair. His life was now a sea of anguish, he would have to settle for a vanilla sundae.
I was watching all of this out of the corner of my eye, and laughing almost audibly at this point. He turned to me for a second, either because he'd barely heard me chuckling, or just out of realization that his dramatic soliloque had taken place right in front of me. I glanced up for a plit second, up as if I had noticed him turn in my direction. I really got a good look at him then [generally I creep with my peripherals] and I realized that he was a little punk. His black tuque was all covered with a tiny skull pattern, and he had on a baggy blacksweatshirt. I didn't look up long enough to see how old he was, but he was glaring at me and his scowl made him look around six or seven, too old at least to be weeping so sincerely. All of this only made it funnier, so I went back to my book more sericously so that I would stop being such a creeper. Which must have worked, because I can't remember how the vanilla sundae was recieved or how or when they left.
ALSO: My internet's back up in my house, so I'll start posting now and again.
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