Losing My Way

I wonder how I failed to read The Sirens Of Titan when I was young. In my youth, I was on quite a Vonnegut tear, reading everything from Player Piano to Galapagos, and beyond that to Slapstick, which I didn't like. So I went years without reading any Vonnegut. Then I saw The Sirens Of Titan on the shelf, and with my usual impulsiveness I decided it would be nice to read after Crime & Punishment by Dostoevsky. I luckily had never read it before. Many concepts he dealt with are present here, and he was honing his style, but still managed to tell a good story. In many ways, it might be his best book, although I still think Slaughterhouse 5 was his masterpiece. The two books share a connection in the planet Tramaldafore and the concept of time and how it passes yet still remains.

With the gun pointed at my chest/ what use can words be?/ Cold, dead eyes glaring at me/ show no pity will come my way./// No tragic tale could move this man/ nor any jest lighten his soul./ I await with only feeble sighs/ It's the the end of all my dreams./// I recall a wrong turn long ago/ from where I was once loved/ to a place where I'm unnown/ trapped in the shadow/ of the light that no one/ can ever claim to have seen.///

Three weeks without a post...I am not proud of that. It concerns me that I don't express myself like I once did, but I read a book that I loved so much that I had to write about it, even if no one will see my review. It is called And The Mountains Echoed by Khaled Hosseini, and I was awed. The scope of the story, its many shifts in direction and the sentiment that touches the soul without resorting to manipulating the reader's emotions shows that Hosseini is a master. Just writing about it brings it back to me: the love of the brother and sister who are separated at a young age, only to be reunited 60 years later when neither can remember, the brother who never forgot until old age damaged his memories and the sister who was too young to recall the love they had. That was the main gist of the novel, yet there was so much more, and it all fit together, a puzzle stretching from Afghanistan to Paris and to California. The only reason I grabbed it was because it had large print

O what a calamity befell our Lord Mayor, to be attacked by ruffians and left, stripped naked in his coach. Then a woman passed by and saw his nakedness, then called her friends to clothe him in the frilliest underwear and a lovely blue skirt. The Lord Mayor couldn't refuse their kind deed and soon there was the sound of much talking. Suddenly a man came. in the carriage, a merchant of some kind, who sat next to the Lord Mayor and rubbed his crotch. 'Why, it seems the wearing of women's clothing is getting you excited. Could it be that you are thinking about penis?' The merchant rubbed some more, then said, 'Your arousal at the thought of men is obvious O Lord Mayor. Perhaps you wish to see my cock.' And the merchant showed his penis, and the Lord Mayor grabbed that penis. 'Forgive me dear God, but I must put this Cock in my mouth.' And so the Lord Mayor did. 'Very good mayor. Yell out the window how much you love Cock.' And the Lord Ma

I thought she loved me/ I was so wrong/ now I don't have her loving/ all I have is this song/// It's not long enough/ to let her know how I feel/ The solo is me, all alone/ but the words aren't real//// She left me standing on the bridge/ didn't wait for the big finish//// What do I do? What can I say?/ How did I get so blue?/ I am just a fool for a day/ and tomorrow too/////

I am a coward. I wouldn't send out my review of Dostoevsky because I have so many entries about handsome men putting me in a spot where I can't say no. Never say no to his cock being in my hand....so smooth to my touch so smooth.....enticing me to bend down and lick the cock.....LICK THAT COCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! After this entry, 3 more minutes of rabhomoooooooooooothoughtttsucthat penisuntilhedecidestofukmeintheassFUCKMEINTHEASS! IwantpenispenispenisNOWWWWW

Dostoevsky's book is short, a weird hybrid of philosophy and tragedy, though the sadness is from the story of a man who never made a single human connection in his life. The man writes his notes but is so cut off from the world he doesn't even tell us his name. He has one chance at life, it seems, when Liza the whole comes to visit, but he just throws a fit and she leaves. He runs out after her to no avail: when he reaches the street, there is no sign of her. He will never see her again. At the end he says he will write no more, yet a final paragraph says he couldn't help himself, but Dostoevsky ends it with the words 'it also seems to us that this would be a good place to stop.' That's is probably the saddest ending of all, knowing that this man's life was lived with no one to care, not even himself.