Pride and the Den

This mesys Leo has been pondering, the warm noise of the furnace prevents ina ctual listening, and as the night unwinds, its color filling bedside glasses, I sit awake, hunched incorrectly over my keyboard, unlike Larry Mullins, I don't like to hit things, I am curious and often ill-tempered. Perhaps some simple-minded Henry Higgins is an apt analogy. The past few minutes of this hazy evening have been devoted to my scouring on Powells, Amazon and ebay. Oh, I do pry and ponder. The questions of late have been epic and largely historical, though my selections betray metaphysics, I am afraid, for why else be concerned with the arc of the meek, the untimely vanquishing of the "Chosen" - who made the selection and how do meet it now? What do full bellies and walls against the tundra belittle?

My trip to Chicago shall require Faulkner. I plan on rereading As I Lay Dying and reading Sanctuary in its entirety. I remain prepared for the tepid stature of the latter, but am excited nonetheless.