Saturday, August 5, 2006

too much input

How, logically, does one cope? Choice of music is, by the way, imperative to tone of writing. My writing, at least. Achey breaky songs completely kill the buzz from a Pratchett, a Monster House build, and unhealthy midnight carbohydrates.
Hmm, alright. Perhaps diverted would be a better choice. Diverted my buzz. Stupid old Beth Orton and Dave Matthews and Sarah Mclachlan and John Rzeznik and Ben Gibbards and Tina Dico and Ryan Adams and Chris Martin. Ouchies.

Here's what I've been reading over the last few days, then, O my brothers.

Steven Pinker's The Language Instinct
This book is the sum of dreams. It's twelve years old and I only read it now (!) , and I will read it again. I can't stop talking about it. Ask the people who've seen me in the last week. Really.
Almost everything in it makes sense, and so much of it seems so phenomenally obvious if you only take a moment to think about it. I have ten favourite chapters. Out of twelve.
Read it. readitreaditreadit. NOW.

The Puffin Book of Nonsense Stories
(selected (and illustrated yay!) by Quentin Blake)
Nonsense Stories. Quentin Blake. Need I say more? The gem of the collection, though, has to be
The Beautifull Cassandra, by Jane Austen.
Oh and Oh and Oh.

Pratchett's Interesting Times and Wyrd Sisters
have I never read this man till now? How. Why. What the hell. I want more. More, yes? Yes. I would spend money on him. Ah, these English :D.

John Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men and Cannery Row
Yes? Say yes. Smile and cry. Cry and smile. I love that I watched Sinese and Malkovich in this only two days ago. All actors should understand their authors that well.

Burgess' A Clockwork Orange
And another. This one didn't do what it was meant to, I think. I read it after the grammar, and let other parts intrigue me. Must meet it again sometime. Perhaps next week.

and I read them all in between and over and through and around each other and right now I am oozing joyousness out my ears. Isn't language the most splendid thing? Yes, and yes, and yes; as many times as I can possibly say it.
And now, excuse me, please, poppets. I go to read this.
What a perfectly perfectly wonderful world. Lucky lucky lucky me.

No comments:

Post a Comment