Musings

Every night for the last few weeks around 2-3 am, my dog has startled me awake with a determined round of dog bed scratching. She paws, and paws, and paws at the tent-like material, making a terrific amount of noise. I do not understand what this new thing is all about but I am not a fan.

My beautiful brother has written a tight and insightful piece here. I like the piece though I hesitate to give America credit for trading in the souls of men.

I've been thinking about adding some additional concrete determinations about how many books I want to read this year. I've toyed with the idea of forcing some of the vegetables of literature on the list to supplement my liberal arts education and general knowledge of the world around me instead of pure pleasure reads. I looked for books by David Foster Wallace in the bookstore last weekend but did not find him. I did come across an awesome title, "Mr. Sebastian and the Negro Magician," by Daniel Wallace (no relation to the David above). The book screams, READ ME, MY TITLE F-ING ROCKS but I promised myself I would read David Foster Wallace's "A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again" first.