The Borders of Things

Can't Fight This Feeling

Working on the last paper of the quarter and the year right now. I keep reminding myself that a week from right now, I will by fly-fishing with my dad in PA. There are trout swimming in those rivers right now. And I've got their number.

Speaking of numbers: I know my blog posts haven't been that beefy as of late, but they haven't been entirely irregular either (about every 10 days or so). I am not one of those people who plays big brother and watches who and when people come to their blog. And that means I don't know if anyone is actually reading this stuff.

Which doesn't bother me, since I wouldn't really read it either. But I'm not quite solipsistic enough to publish on the interweb for my own sake. So, if you are out there, and you read this for whatever reason: feel free to speak up from time to time. It doesn't have to be much, of course; a simple "howdeedoo" is all this pilgrim would ever ask of anybody. Or maybe you want to say a bit more. Perhaps your cat has worms and you just need somewhere to vent. The comment section is there for you. I'm not much of a cat person, myself, but I'll understand.

Of course, the best way to hear back from people is to actually write provocative stuff. I'm not much at that, but I've recently discovered someone who is. Cormac Mccarthy, whose book Blood Meridian I've finally accquired and begun reading. Unfreakingbelievable thus far. So if you want provocation, stop reading this blog and go buy this book. Or go buy this book, read it, then come tell me what you think of it.