In light of recent perusals over The Princeton Review's list o'schools, I'm in a list-making mood. Plus I hate leaving entries like the last one up for too long. Like ten minutes.

Summer '05, In Books (or what I remember at 2:30 in the am)
Dharma Bums - Jack Kerouac
Of Human Bondage - W. Somerset Maugham
Black Like Me - John Howard Griffin
Flowers for Algernon - Daniel Keyes
One Flew Over a Cuckoo's Nest - Ken Kesey
One for the Money - Janet Evanovich
Two for the Dough - Janet Evanovich
The Perks of Being a Wallflower - Stephen Chbosky
Why We Can't Wait - Martin Luther King, Jr.
Having Our Say - Amy Hill Hearth, et al
Harry Potter IV - J.K. Rowling
Harry Potter VI - J.K. Rowling
Me Talk Pretty One Day - David Sedaris
The Five People You Meet in Heaven - Mitch Albom
"The Stonewater Rapture" - Doug Wright
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time - Mark Haddon
Enormous Changes at the Last Minute - Grace Paley

All are highly, highly recommended. Except Of Human Bondage. That might make you want to kill yourself a little... and not even in a good way.

And there is another list in my head, and it has been tugging at the corners of my consciousness for weeks now. It's a list of this summer in general: some pros and cons, but most just a fairly unbiased account. A list in its truest sense.

I think I'm trying to understand why it has ended in the uncomfortable way it has, with the prickly idea that... something. I don't even know. I had a shining realization dawn on me the other day and I figured out everything, particularly that of this ever-looming funk that has presided over my self all summer. Aaand ten minutes later I had forgotten all of it.

Maybe I'm not supposed to know. I could totally be pulling a Zaphod Beeblebrox on this shit.

My nerd is showing and I don't even care.

ink :: graphite