bookishness.

I went to down to the basement of the library today, in search of something to read at lunch, because they keep all the interesting books downstairs. I mean, okay, we do have a copy of The Lorax, but I don't eat that fast.

Anyway. Downstairs. Looking for a book. Looking, specifically, for Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer, about which more below, but what caught my eye was a book on the next shelf. The title, printed in nicely spaced caps, white on a black spine, was FANON.

Wow, I thought, staring at it. I didn't realize the fandom-studies field had gotten so advanced that they'd do an entire book just on the phenomenon of fanon. That's really interesting, I wonder--wait, no. It can't be--

But I couldn't think what the hell else a book called Fanon might be. It turned out, of course, to be a biography of the psychologist Fritz Fanon, who was, I believe, Algerian. There was another book about him right next to it, with the title printed in a slightly less eye-catching fashion. Still, I look forward to the day when I can read a scholarly study of fanon over lunch.

Instead, I'll be reading pop-nonfiction about ( Chris McCandless )

Chris McCandless update

I implied, in my last entry, that McCandless ate whatever he ate that wound up killing him because he didn't have any sort of guide to edible plants to steer him right. However, on page thirteen I discovered that he'd written his diary on a field guide to edible plants. Whether or not it was one appropriate to his locale remains uncertain, but my apologies for the mistaken assumption and a few points for effort to McCandless.

Hockey AU Update

170,682 words. 379 pages. 17 scenes to go. It's become a deathmatch: me or the story. I think I'm going to win.

*knocks wood*