Robinson Crusoe

Dude...this is Rob.....(when you've known Robinson Crusoe as long as I have...you get to call him Rob). Dig it!

-Friday

On a Libary Shelf one Afternoon

So, I'm sitting here in the library, just glancing at the rows upon rows of dusty books, wondering to myself, Just who was the last person to pick one up? What was he like, was he picking them up out of genuine interest, or just a moment's curiousity?

Who knows? But I just can't help thinking about it, just like I can't stop from putting my pencil down, ignoring my past due homework, and running my fingers over their heavy, fragile covers. And my thoughts begin to drift to different things, like how much more time will they be here? These printed words, do even they have an expiration date? We tend to think of printed material as a form of immortalization, but, if truth be told, aren't books also subject to being chucked away and lost in the passage of time?

Now, I know that some books live on, singing their songs for the rest of eternity (if the human race lasts that long that is). The lists are long of the books that will live on, just as the list of men that will live on through the testaments of time. But are there books that will entertain us for a brief time, then slide away, deeper and deeper into oblivion, till the point where all of the ideas and words it held are just as if they'd never been written?

As I sit in this deserted libary corner, musing over these old, dusty volumes, I realize just how similar books are to people. Just how we all wish we could break out into something special, something everlastingly endearing that will never fade away. But reality doesn't give out mercy cards, oh no, reality just coldly walks past us with its head held up high, not even nodding to acknowledge our existence.

-You hear that, books, we're not so different, you and I.

But all I get back for a response is their persistent silence. I guess they've accepted their new niches in life, space fillers in an enormous library. For if we take away all of the non-great books, what would we have? Open, vacant libraries?

So I just shrug, I shake off the feeling that I'm just here to take up space and keep the world from looking too empty. I just pick up my pencil and resume my past due homework.

Where to begin

So the main objective of this blog had been to write about and critique novels that I had read. As anyone who's followed it for a while can tell, I've severely digressed. So, I'm going to make an effort to get back to the essence of this blog, to discuss two novels that I recently read. I will simply use my recollection of the novels and their content, instead of actually just stepping over to my book case and flipping to the passage of interest (sorry, I've been cursed with this adamant and zealous lethargy) To start with I'll discuss my thoughts and impressions (i'm very impressionable, mind you) about Richard Yates Revolutionary Road and then proceed to Dick's Ubik, and possibly conclude (if my lethargy permits) with some thoughts on the new film Juno.

Revolutonary RD

The story of the dysfunctional suburban family in an oddly overwhelming normal setting. This novel spoke out to me more than most in a long time. The themes that are brought up, turned over and examined, are full of impact. The love, the true love, between two people, and what that includes. The choices we make in life and how we stagnate in them, afraid to even reach out for something better. The oppressive qualities of a society obsessed with tidiness, mediocrity, and normalcy. It becomes too much for the main characters to take, forcing them into stinking lashes that hurt each other and themselves only to...to what? Scream passionately that we are not like "those next door," we have a life, a passion, an intelligence which they can not possibly possess. oh what a tortuous mentality. oh the pain of reality when we realize that mistakes of our own life are due in most part to our own self deception, our own suffocating need to hope that, if we only wanted to, we could always do better.

There was so much self delusion in this novel, and yet, it was so richly human, it cut deep when the reader realized, how far am I from being like the husband (or the wife)? ....not that far.

I can't really continue to the next novel, let's just leave it at this for now, the lethargy has won yet another bout. Damn you, laziness, damn you.

Job Interview

The old man slowly took off the small spectacles hanging precariously on the end of his nose. He put the papers he was holding down on his cluttered desk, and with immense sense of weariness and patience, he said, "Well... it's definitely a very impressive and uh... unique resume. I saw that you battled a dragon and a couple of monsters. You included in your skill set sword wielding and bashing. It's all good stuff indeed. But to be perfectly honest, I just don't think you're what Cisco Systems is looking for right now."

At which point, Beowulf started to weep softly.