i. can't. read

went to Booksale two days ago and bought
    a translation of Gilgamesh,
    a book by Alan Jacobs (Wheaton professor at time of publishing, now at
   Baylor - surprising find)
       on testimony: narrative theology but focused on the
                  individual contra
                         Hauerwas (heh);
      and a book on Spanish
            (embarassing, but I did
             just read Pablo Neruda
             and it doesn't seem a huge
             stretch: Tagalog, Bisaya, Latin, what could possibly
              go wrong? [Dunno, maybe
                  the fact that you might
                  not actually read it?!])

- and added a few poetry books to my incessantly expanding hoard of ebooks:
      Robert Browning, Gerard Manley Hopkins
GERARD. MANLEY. HOPKINS.
Who in the world is
                              this guy?
What the heck is he trying
                                        to do?
Not only unconventional English,
   but also
      baffling, almost Greeky-Latiny word order (and if you've made acquaintance with either you know
       the struggle, the labyrinthine mud-miasma glare blur slap-facey struggle
[and such constructions as this are not beyond Gerard])
        baffling poems with the exception of
        "God's Grandeur" and a couple others
         striking evocative lines
              but only two and then
                  "let me revert to
                  nebulosity again plox.
                  thx."
Twenty poems in and I'm still all
      Wuuuuuuuu
          uuuuuuuuu
            uuuuuuuuu
              uuuuuuuuu
                uuuuuuuuu
                                t

- but
             anyway -
      
      Browning, Gerard Butler Leonidas Hopkins,
      Andrew George's translation of Gilgamesh (heh)
         [and this Alan Jacobs fellow has piqued
           my interest in Auden]

and I bought Jonathan Franzen's
     The Corrections
           500 pp.
   and do I have the time?
        Yes yes nope yes

But
         I
             Can't
                        Reeeeeead

The distractions
                                    T.V.

       Keyboard (BACH BACH BACH BACH)

               the Interwebs
                                     
                .                        Mooar books

(you ever get the feeling that you want to read something anything so bad you end up reading nothing and instead find yourself retreading the saccharine staircase down into the depressing dregs of the internet
     horrid
              feeling)

I read a chapter and it's still
  wuuuuuu(u-jollywell-near-infinity up-up-up the y-axis)t

    And mp3 music (muzak?)
        on my phoan

"I hear in my miiiind
all this muuuuusic
and it breaks my heart
and it breaks my heart
And it breaks my he-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-eart..."
              ~ Regina
                     Spektor

Interestingly, I read best when listening to Bach or to Mahler or
to Jack White's weird croons
   and Meg White's brutal beats,
"but that ain't whatchu wanna hear
  but that's what I'll do."

Frustrating frustrating
Frust
                                        
                     ra

                                         ting.