Intro
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
***
Anthony Burgess - A Clockwork Orange
My expression in that photo doesn't reflect my feelings about the book. I look displeased up there. And maybe I am displeased, but not with Mr Burgess. I enjoyed the book a great deal.
I was going to write lots of insightful things about the use of language, the themes of adolescence and social control, and the relation to the Kubrick film version, but I'm sure it has already been covered by people more qualified and skilled than I.
Maybe I'm displeased about my giant hand, or the lack of colour in my face.
It's a lot easier to read novels than non-fiction. If my shelf was all novels, I'd have raced through it. But I am interested in the non-fiction stuff: the politics, the history, the social analysis.
It also helps me understand the fiction on a deeper level. I'm sure Machiavelli and Spenser will really sharpen my appreciation for the themes in Fantastic Mr Fox and Russell Brand's Booky Wook.
I should either:
a) Write something interesting about the books I'm reading, or
b) Use the books as a springboard to other interesting ideas
I seem to be doing neither of those things, due to my waning mood.
Perhaps I should just stop writing this blog for a while until I feel more motivated. But I worry that that time may never come. So it's best to have these little chunks of dour vapidity to act as placeholders for a while.
Also, I should stop suggesting that what I write is dour and vapid. I think that, but only because of my current mindset. I'm sure everyone reading this was thrilled by the insight and energy of my writing, and was subsequently shocked to learn of the low opinion I have for my words.
It's all about attitude. From now on, I'm going to enthuse about my blog to such an extent as to become obnoxious and unreadable.
Then I'll have to tone it down to create a sense of balance. It's tricky to walk that fine line between wet blanket and loud-mouthed bravado blanket (though using both does keep the heat in, during these cold winter nights).
I should also stop putting my face in these blogs. I don't like being reminded of my sullen visage every time I click on the page.
On the other hand, I am extremely handsome, vibrant and aesthetically rich in facial construction. Most people see my face and are given a real boost to their day. People probably check for updates every 45 minutes to get a new snatch of my proud countenance.
On the other hand, no they don't.
On the other hand, they might.
That's four hands (or half an octopus [with hands]).
I'm really enjoying this. I think I'm being funny and interesting. This is probably the best blog post I've ever written.
Though to be honest, the transparency of that falsehood may be enough to permanently alienate any of my obtuse perceptive ugly beautiful readers, so I'd do well to both delete this without publishing it, and also post it several hundred times, on different websites, and print out versions of it to stick on walls and noticeboards and lampposts and then graffiti insults over the grotesque and brilliant text therein.
I should also post some more pictures of my face, and the back of my head for balance.
***
We put up our Christmas decorations recently. I'm currently listening to White Christmas, Bing Crosby's Aryan Festive Classic.
I don't want all my Christmases to be white. I'd like a puce Christmas every so often. Like a leap year.
We've got lots of lights, which is very pleasant. It feels like we're living in a neon brain, and rejoicing at the colourful synapses. We're like brain elves.
Nat King Cole has just barged his way into proceedings. Santa Claus may well be coming to town, but I don't appreciate a song composed mainly of threats.
Except for I'm Going to Punch Your Wife by UB40 or You've Got 'Til the Count of Three - One... Two... Three... *CLICK* *BLAM* by Ladysmith Black Mambazo.
I'd continue writing hilarious commentary on all the songs that come up, but doing that would expose how slow I am at writing.
For example, in the time it took to write the last sentence, I've gone through all of our Christmas music, all of our New Years music, all of our Shrove Tuesday music, and am now listening to Frank Sinatra sing a touching ballad about the Easter Bunny.
Yes, I do sort my iTunes by festive season. I find it to be appropriate.
I'm going to go and pour myself a large glass of water now.
I need water to live.
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