i don't talk much about what i'm reading here, do i?
well, right now is not the time for me to start, i've decided. i'm still reeling from my gratuitous dinner listings of last week.
but what i will do is post a tidbit from the just purchased (yes, it was that kind of day, i blame the unsolicited submissions, one by a white supremacist, the other an essay entitled "Protestant Pumpkins")
ladies and gentlemen, page 2, Yann Martel's Self:
I became aware of a voice inside my head. What is this, I wondered. Who are you, voice? When will you shut up? I remember a feeling of fright. It was only later that I realized that this voice was my own thinking, that this moment of anguish was my first inkling that I was a ceaseless monologue trapped within myself.
for all you snotty wankers who think Yann Martel is overrated, "blah blah blah Life of Pi blah blah blah whatever", PACK IT IN.
i am Exceedingly excited to have this book in my hands. (Cartwheelingly so.)