I don't have time for a full entry- so let's write a full entry!

Though I had a most excellent outing yesterday I think I must have gone over my sun quota- some extra redness to my usual colour palette of, you know, pale- I'm pretty drained. And that's me saying it the day after... well, yeah, okay, I did run to work this morning... but again, that's still tons of fun in the sun.

That reminds me I wanted to bring up the row of trees on the Exhibition grounds that are now just white flowers blossoming. It's pretty spectacular.

Wanted to treat myself with some carbonated beverage AND salt and vinegar chips... and as per usual regret it to some extent. Curse my status as a high performance machine! Back to apples and water for me...
You'd think I'd enjoy a little sugar high before crashing and napping from 5-8, but nope, basically scarfed it down, couldn't keep my head up, so down it went. Maybe the scarf wasn't long enough?

And once I woke up I had to take advantage of the time to work on some mandatory staff training stuff that takes far too long. Especially when my brother finds an old episode of "Lois and Clark" on tv. But ESPECIALLY when "Castle" comes on the air. er, screen.

All of this is the not so short preamble to my lamentation that I just don't have the time to sit back and discuss the fact that I've FINALLY finished reading that Candide by Voltaire. You know, that story I picked up from the library like two months ago (or something like that, it feels that long ago anyways, but time moves so slow and fast I really can't say) until I got distracted by a mountain of comics that I naturally had a lot of fun with.

Hmm, I've been really good about going to bed lately (even with naps, which is pretty weird.) but if I don't talk a bit about Candide now I won't get to it at all.

There's a sense of anti climax to Candide that reminds me of Don Quixote, The Life and Times of Tristram Shandy annnd.... ahh it never fails, when I mention The Life and Times of Tristram Shandy I can't remember the name of this book, and when I remember the name of this book my mind blanks on Tristram Shandy...
argh anyways that anti climax probably has to do with the fact that all these entries are satires of either writing convention or attitudes of the times (for example Don Quioxte lampoons the stories of knight errantry, Candide takes the philosophy of "everything is as it should be, and is for the greatest good" and just tears it apart) by building up an adventure, maybe calling it "How Our Heroes Came Across A Surprise" only to be a distinctive flower on the road or something.

Excuse the paragraph break, I just felt your eyes were getting tired. Well, since we're here I may as well continue on with a slightly different "idea", thereby justifying that line break.

That build up of expectation only to be let down with something especially mundane is an effective comedy style- I flatter myself in the idea that I use it quite effectively. Which sounds like I'm saying I never have anything particularly interesting to say: it's all just tales of me crossing the street, going on the bus, or buying milk- and that's just sad. Also, quite accurate.

Back to the books and away from however interesting I am: that reversal of expectation is also just a sign of the differences of our times- stories keep having to up the ante all the time, especially in the past century when the condensing of our literature (by which I mean the sudden accessibility of all literature to all places- should have just said that in the first place) means that every cliffhanger and tale of suspense is informed not just by recent European history (as is the case with my examples above, yes even that book whose name I forget- it's seriously killing me over here) but by everything- Journey to the West, the Mahabharata (you wouldn't believe how close I was to spelling that right without checking it, I was only off by the placement of one 'h'), etc.

I mean, Journey to the West has a monkey king pestering gods while riding a cloud. You've really got to step up your game when that gets thrown onto the field. Like yellow-sponges-in-square-pants-living-in-a-pinapple-who-work-in-an-undersea-fast-food-restaurant kind of stepping up of your game. It's big leagues stuff.

Okay, I'm up way too late, you've suffered through enough of my parentheses, and there's work tomorrow plus a movie, and I have no intention of napping through one of those (I'm totally kidding workplace!).

For the record I like ol' Spongebob. Just in case I sounded sarcastic or somesuch. Ooh, now I know what I want to talk about next time. Apologies in advance.