At Home He's a Tourist

He fills his head with culture/ He gives himself an ulcer.

Sunday, September 17, 2006

Perfect weather, but otherwise it wasn't such a great day. I'm coming down with a head cold, and in the parking lot of the grocery store (where I had gone to stock up on soup, OJ, and Nyquil) my car refused to start. I should probably feel grateful, at least, that I could find a wrecker on a small-town Sunday afternoon. Tomorrow, if I'm at all coherent, I'll need to call around to get the car fixed, since my brother is flying into Lubbock on Thursday and we're planning to go to NM for the weekend.

Got some reading done, at least: Stephen R. Donaldson, The Illearth War, the second volume in the Thomas Covenant series of fantasy novels. I'm not enjoying it as much as the first installment; more battle scenes and less poetic descriptions of the Land's beauty, plus Donaldson's penchant for ridiculously high-falutin' similes is getting out of hand. Still has its moments, though, and High Lord Elena is a very appealing character. Thomas Merton, Run to the Mountain, volume one of his journals. Intimidating.


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