Still don’t have time to draw, what with school and everything (which is all going fine)…but I do occasionally have time to work on my spring reading program, which is (apparently) to reread all the various dystopian novels of my long-ago youth. When I have five minutes free to read anything, that is. So, pretty soon I’ll start rereading Zamyatin’s We, after I finish Farenheit 451 and Brave New World. I read Le Guin’s The Dispossessed last year for the third time, but maybe it’s time now for a fourth visit to Anarres, on account of how very much I love that book. Plus, the bookstore at my school has Animal Farm, and you know what, even if I read it in high school, that doesn’t count, so I’ll probably read it again pretty soon (as well as, of course, the one that starts with a clock striking thirteen, which I thought was pretty clever until I realized upon visiting Britain that most clocks there strike thirteen once a day). Anyhow, can’t leave out Lem’s Memoirs Found in a Bathtub, although I almost did leave it out on accident. I mean, I suppose I could save a couple of bucks and check this stuff out from the library, since that’s where I spend 98% of my time…but, you know, there’s something nice about forming little collections of like-minded books and sort of lining them up together on a shelf in your home. Anyhow, I figure there’s a plan to why I’m doing this, but I don’t know what the plan is yet, which is my typical status. Meanwhile, I ran across this line at the start of chapter 7 of BNW (which I guess is the shorthand way we talk about famous works of art now):
“The mesa was like a ship becalmed in a strait of lion-coloured dust.”
A damn nice line, in my humble opinion (merciful heavens, though, if only you knew just how humble…my bookbinding projects are a constant source of extreme humblement).
And that’s all I know for now.
Oh, and on my screen, “dust” is completely an orphan, which is gross. But, maybe it’s not an orphan on yours, who knows. I hope it’s not, at least. It’s either completely impossible to worry about doing nice typography on a blog, or it’s completely possible but beyond the ability of my rapidly shrinking brain to comprehend how to work it. All I really want to do is not worry about it and just draw some pictures and then draw a bunch more and then stick them inside of books which maybe I can sell out of the back of a truck at the farmer’s market or someplace.
Anyway, I feel good about settling into the pigeonhole of a middlebrow. Takes the pressure off, big time.