Monday, July 14, 2008

The other night I was bored and clicked on the GarageBand program on my computer, just to see what it was.  Turns out you can record sound with it.  For a long time I had been longing—I'd even go so far as to say yearning—for a computer program that would allow me to do just that, in order that I might record myself reading poems which I could put on my iPod and then listen to when I'm out and about.  (Right now, sitting here, I'm merely about, not out.  Hence the italicized "and" just now.)

Way too many people, and I mean way too many, are landing on this blog through a search for "bondage dairy".  I suppose I could google it myself and find out what it is the easy way, but though I've seen some weird things on the internet, I'm not sure I can handle bondage dairy.

Yesterday and today I completed the first chapter of Sentimental Education.  Once again I got pissed and frustrated that I was having such a hard time enjoying and understanding a classic book.  Pissed that it always takes me an hour to read four pages.  Not too happy either with the fact that there are people who are smarter than me.

I also gave a few moments thought to wondering when I might wrap up Denis Johnson's Already Dead, which I think I started about a year ago.  I've got around 70-odd pages left I think.

2 comments:

  1. Sentimental E. is tough. But I don't think the level of appreciation is about 'smartness' (maybe you were bing facetious Matt!) It's just really boring. And that's fine. Lots of great books are really boring. I like it that we can admit that without it really denigrating the work. Pater's 'Marius The Epicurean', great swathes of 'A la Recherche', and almost all of Dryden, spring to mind.

    Boredom can be pleasurable. Weirdly. (Though I'm not talking about the same boredom as Kenny Goldsmith's).

    At once: 1) how wondrous, how beautiful and 2) YAWN

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  2. "(maybe you were being facetious Matt!)"

    ;)

    Facetious might be my default mode of communication. (I guess that would explain my poetry! (sigh...).)

    Still...what I think I was saying is that there are a lot of times when I look down my nose at people because they "don't get" some piece of literature that I like, and so it's..."frustrating"—but truthfully, humbling—to be on the flip side of the coin, to "not get" a work that people I look up to consider to be great. (Not that I'm giving up on Flaubert just yet.)

    Truth be told, by the time I typed that sentence about not being smart, my thoughts had drifted away from Flaubert and towards Tony Tost's Complex Sleep, which I'm doing my best with but...well, I might blog about this as soon as I finish it.

    Interesting thoughts you have on the value of boredom. (Although, to me, if it's a pleasurable boredom, then it's not truly boredom, but I see what you mean.) Actually, my main problem with older books is that I have trouble picturing the place, clothing, hairstyles, furniture...I just get hung up on trying to figure out these details and it detracts from the story. You'd think someone who has watched as many PBS period pieces as I have would be better at this, but I guess not.

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