...the more we know, the more we know how much we don't know...
Alrighty. Crying of Lot 49 by Thomas Pynchon. Quite wonderful if you like that postmodern, "nothing means a goddamned thing," obsessive search for truth shit.
But beware: the search for truth never, ever ends.
While reading some sparknotes for some books I'm unclear on, my eye kept wandering to the ad for greyhound. I found myself searching the prices of here to New York, here to Lake City, here to Albequerque. And then I noticed a new hole in my hoodie. WHY IS EVERYTHING I OWN FALLING APART?!?!?!?!?!
Well, back to smashing my head against the table. I mean studying for two finals I have tomorrow.
Wish me luck. I'll sure as hell need it.
But beware: the search for truth never, ever ends.
While reading some sparknotes for some books I'm unclear on, my eye kept wandering to the ad for greyhound. I found myself searching the prices of here to New York, here to Lake City, here to Albequerque. And then I noticed a new hole in my hoodie. WHY IS EVERYTHING I OWN FALLING APART?!?!?!?!?!
Well, back to smashing my head against the table. I mean studying for two finals I have tomorrow.
Wish me luck. I'll sure as hell need it.
posted by Shae at 8:05 PM
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