there will be a fish

I like TurboTax. It makes it easy enough to file your taxes that you can do it while, say, three margaritas to the wind after celebrating a recent promotion.

Not that that is a personally-relevant example or anything... >.>

(p.s. Katie just finished the second book in The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo trilogy, and she actually threw it away from her, grabbed up the third book, ripped off its dust cover, and frantically flipped to the first page. Yeah, it's that kind of cliffhanger. :D)

So, this is basically me, when I go to the library:



...um, yeah. Today, I renewed my card, paid my dues, and got seven different Band of Brothers-related memoirs/autobiographies and three different Tintin compilations. They wouldn't let me re-check out the four books on WWI-related topics that had reached their renewal limits, how sad. I already had a whole 'nother stack of books at home on WWI war poets, plus a collection of Lord Peter Wimsey short stories, in addition to all the non-library books I own.

But at least I didn't succumb to getting any The Pacific-related memoirs! I even was holding one of Robert Leckie's books in my hand, and put it back on the shelf. (If it had been Sledge's, I probably wouldn't have been able to do it.) Still, aren't you guys proud? :D?

Twenty-nine is the number of books I have lying around my room in piles, in the process of being read. These are not to-read; they have all been started to some extent or another. *sigh*

Three are from the library:

- a Lord Peter Wimsey short stories collection (I have re-checked this out SO MANY TIMES now)
- two Pippi Longstocking books (re-reading, because this fic made me all nostalgic)

Thirteen are fiction:

- Death Masks by Jim Butcher (fifth in the Dresden Files)
- The Complete Sherlock Holmes, Vol. 2 (my sister and I are reading these out loud with each other; we've stopped midway through Hound of the Baskervilles)
- Fragile Things (three short stories in; still in love with "A Study In Emerald", so I keep re-reading that and then forgetting to move on to the rest of the book)
- Hourglass by Claudia Gray (oh the shame, I am so behind on this lovely series)
- Fateful by Claudia Gray (WEREWOLVES ON THE TITANIC! I haven't actually started yet, but I've been enormously excited about it ever since claudiagray told me about this great idea she had, while we were drunkenly sharing a cab home)
- Sunshine by Robin McKinley (borrowed from katieupsidedown, I ♥ Robin McKinley)
- Naked Heat by Richard Castle (professional Castle fanfic!)
- Traitor's Moon (fourth in the series)
- Very Good, Jeeves! (what ho!)
- Busman's Honeymoon (still haven't read this, embarrassingly. I get all weird and "OH NOES there will be no more new [Sayers-written] Lord Peter after this!" about it, which I know is silly)
- Metamorphoses (Ovid is the shit, guys. Also, these stories are batshit. But they're kind of great for ideas, because when )
- The Westing Game (I never read this as a child -- which I realized on my unsuccessful hunt for our copies of Pippi Longstocking, before I gave up and hit the library -- and think I missed out there)
- Frankenstein by Mary Shelley (because I never really read it in school when we were supposed to, and not at all because Erik refers to himself as Frankenstein's monster in XMFC, nope....)

Six non-fiction:

- Unpopular Opinions by Dorothy Sayers (I'm looking forward to the jokey examinations of Sherlock Holmes canon, such as "Holmes' College Career" and "Dr. Watson, Widower"; I posted scans of a few essays from this here)
- The Monster Show: A Cultural History of Horror by David J. Skal (one of the coursebooks for my horror films class, which I loved but didn't quite finish; it's enormously fun)
- My Wicked, Wicked Ways by Errol Flynn (his autobiography, which I picked up used from a street vendor in NYC; it is written in the most ridiculously tongue-in-cheek, self-important style, and clearly full of tall tales, so I have fun with it)
- Imbibe! by David Wondrich (a wonderfully nerdy bartending recipes/history of mixology book)
- Bartender's Bible (what it says on the tin: lots and lots of drink recipes)
- Vagabonding by Rolf Potts (no relation to Pepper, I don't think. Traaaaavelling *longing eyes*)

And seven re-reads:

- Strong Poison
- Have His Carcase
- Gaudy Night by Dorothy Sayers (all of the Harriet Vane books of the Lord Peter series, which I am not at all re-reading for the purposes of writing a The Eagle AU, no sirree....)
- Diplomatic Immunity by Lois McMaster Bujold (where I stalled out on my epic Vorkosigan Saga re-read. I'm so close!)
- The Big Con by David Maurer (because ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥)
- The Twits by Roald Dahl
- The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery (both also added to the pile during the great Pippi Longstocking bookhunt)


It's all getting rather ridiculous. NO MORE NEW BOOKS UNTIL THESE ARE FINISHED.

We went to a Hitchcock serial killer double feature tonight (Frenzy and Psycho). I found myself thinking of this Sherlock Holmes quote a lot during Psycho. Also, weirdly enough, during the old trailer for Alien they played, because the "In space, no one can hear you scream" tagline is rather bizarrely appropriate:

By eleven o'clock the next day we were well upon our way to the old English capital. Holmes had been buried in the morning papers all the way down, but after we had passed the Hampshire border he threw them down and began to admire the scenery. It was an ideal spring day, a light blue sky, flecked with little fleecy white clouds drifting across from west to east. The sun was shining very brightly, and yet there was an exhilarating nip in the air, which set an edge to a man's energy. All over the countryside, away to the rolling hills around Aldershot, the little red and grey roofs of the farm-steadings peeped out from amid the light green of the new foliage.

"Are they not fresh and beautiful?" I cried with all the enthusiasm of a man fresh from the fogs of Baker Street.

But Holmes shook his head gravely.

"Do you know, Watson," said he, "that it is one of the curses of a mind with a turn like mine that I must look at everything with reference to my own special subject. You look at these scattered houses, and you are impressed by their beauty. I look at them, and the only thought which comes to me is a feeling of their isolation and of the impunity with which crime may be committed there."

"Good heavens!" I cried. "Who would associate crime with these dear old homesteads?"

"They always fill me with a certain horror. It is my belief, Watson, founded upon my experience, that the lowest and vilest alleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the smiling and beautiful countryside."

"You horrify me!"

"But the reason is very obvious. The pressure of public opinion can do in the town what the law cannot accomplish. There is no lane so vile that the scream of a tortured child, or the thud of a drunkard's blow, does not beget sympathy and indignation among the neighbours, and then the whole machinery of justice is ever so close that a word of complaint can set it going, and there is but a step between the crime and the dock. But look at these lonely houses, each in its own fields, filled for the most part with poor ignorant folk who know little of the law. Think of the deeds of hellish cruelty, the hidden wickedness which may go on, year in, year out, in such places, and none the wiser. Had this lady who appeals to us for help gone to live in Winchester, I should never have had a fear for her. It is the five miles of country which makes the danger."

— The Adventure of the Copper Beeches

Doyle could really bring the creepy when he wanted, huh? I remember it quite caught my attention. It's such an interesting inversion of the usual way people view crime in cities vs. suburban/rural areas – basically, that cities are wretched hives of scum and villainy, and the countryside is peaceful and quaint and polite. I prefer Holmes' view; human nature is human nature, good and bad, wherever you are, which means human crime doesn't go away when you add more trees. ( this became a much longer piece of meta; I went into this just planning to post the quote, but my brain just won't shut up... )

Comments and debate welcome! It's so boring to be completely agreed with, don't you think? ;)

If I were trying to start reading Dorothy Parker, where might all you kind flist people recommend I start?

*solicits advice* :D?

ETA: For some reason, it REALLY ANNOYS ME that there is not one giant collection of the Jeeves & Wooster book canon out there that I can buy. Apparently I must buy all 35 short stories and 11 novels piecemeal, or in overlapping handfuls. *grumps* I am one unhappy compulsive completionist right now.

Judging by the utter lack of response to my post on the context Watson left out when he describing his time as an Army doctor (seriously, how lucky is that guy even to be alive, much less successful? And he makes for excellent h/c fodder...), I get the feeling I am alone in my obsession with Sherlock Holmes' historical context. But I will inflict this on you all anyway. :D

I'm reading an excellent book on mid-Victorian London (check out the limited preview on Google Books; the contents page alone is drool-worthy, and the writing is lively, engaging, and well-researched), and ran across this in the endnotes:

There is an intriguing story in the annals of the Bank of England relating to the sewers: the Directors had ignored an anonymous letter warning them of an imminent raid on the Bank's bullion, but they finally agreed to meet their informer, at night, in the vault where the bullion was stored. Sure enough, the miscreant emerged through the floor, before their very eyes. The Bank's records include – 'in May 1836, having reason to apprehend danger from our sewers, it was discovered that an open and unobstructed sewer led directly from the gold vaults down to Dowgate'. The informant, a working man who had heard of the plot while he was repairing the sewers, was awarded £800.

Does this remind anyone else of ( I can't believe I'm cutting for 119-year-old spoilers )

I really wish I had a work ethic right now.

I have to write this paper (8-10 pages, technically due 8 hours ago...), which is late, which is unfortunate because after I write that paper, I have to write another 8-10 pager due Monday at 2pm. And then I have a take-home final (another 8-10 pages, plus a "short answer question" that is impossibly convoluted, and for a "single question" has about fourteen parts, and could be the basis for a dissertation rather than a short answer) due Wednesday by 5pm.

Which means I have to write 24-30 pages in the next four days (and then 20 pages in the four after that!), and I simply cannot get started on the first one. ARGH. It doesn't help that a) I haven't actually finished reading the book I'm writing about, Nightwood, and b) Djuna Barnes writes in an incredibly intricate way, which is fine and dandy when I can linger over passages like

Nora had the face of all people who love people -- a face that would be evil when she found out that to love without criticism is to be betrayed. Nora robbed herself for everyone; incapable of giving herself warning, she was continually turning about to find herself diminished. Wandering people the world over found her profitable in that she could be sold for a price forever, for she carried her betrayal money in her own pocket.

I mean, isn't that fantastic? She carried her betrayal money in her own pocket, that's such a great line. But you see my problem: the ENTIRE BOOK is like that, and it is exhausting, especially when I don't have time to read it. The novel is also very personal, which is a good quality in that it has the intensity that only comes from truly passionate writing, but can also be incredibly obscure and leave you cold.

Anyway. I'm trying to write this damn paper, and I'm hamstrung by the fact that I need some sources from the library, but the college in its infinite wisdom closes our library at 6pm on the Saturday before finals week (something I did not know until I tried to get into the stacks at 9:30pm last night; they're open till 11pm on weekdays) and doesn't open until noon Sunday. I NEED TO WRITE MY FUCKING PAPER, ASSHOLES. Grrrr. Our prof wants the paper to be ~interdisciplinary~ and have fucking primary AND secondary sources, which is all very cool in theory if I had some motivation or time or had slept. Or had library access.

At least I'm writing about horror films and film theory. That's fun.

I feel bad; I was making breakfast at 5:45am-ish and burned the toast, which set off our smoke detector right outside my suitemates' room. D: I managed to get it off fairly quickly, but still. /o\

So...encouraging words would be nice? Commentfic. Funny pictures. Magic wands that write my paper for me. All those would be most appreciated.