Wow, can’t believe I’m back here for the second time today!
Remember I told you earlier today that I lost my Red Sorghum copy? I’m almost devastated, but mostly surprised, that I misplaced a book. I mean, A BOOK! I’m known as a serial misplacer of keys and important documents, a relapsing offender when it comes to wallets and overcoats, and an occasional car-misplacer (yes, car, as in vehicle; and occasional, as in more than once) but I’ve never lost sight of a book I’m reading before, which, considering my record, is quite an achievement and it doesn’t go without saying how much I’m addicted to my books.
So today I found solace from my Mo-Yan-delirium-tremens in yet another literarish addiction…though this one is actually a little embarassing… I’ve been reading Les Miserables by you know who* all day long. Now, there’s nothing wrong about reading Le Mis right? The thing is, I recognize it as a sign of a fixation going deeper. It all started when I saw the big time musical premiered this year. I’d seen the Gerard Depardieu version years ago and remember being a little interested but mostly over it as soon as it was finished. Now as for the musical, I’d never even heard a song from it, and the fact that hot sugar daddy Hugh Jackman was playing Jean Valjean had nothing to do with my newfound interest in it but yet, I watched it. And then I watched it again…and then again. Then I bought the soundtrack. The extended soundtrack that is. In all honesty, I pre-ordered it from iTunes, not caring for the fact I used to make fun of iTunes pre-sales, as if they’re going to run out of copies of something, please!
a month some weeks of endless replays (minus the Javert songs that is, did they not actually listen to Russel Crowe sing beforehand?), I finally decided to end it before it was too embarrassing. But I’m still happy when the iPod randomly chooses a song from it. I still occasionally fall off the wagon and play I Dreamed a Dream or One Day More, but I’m growing stronger!
Anyhow, during the peak of this hang up, I happened to be at my favorite bookshop and decided to get myself a copy of Le Miserables and get it over with. But evidently, I had already read enough reviews and memorized the Wikipedia article well enough to know I wasn’t in for Hugo’s endless soliloquies that had little next to nothing to do with the actual story. I tried to be the big reader once with The Brothers Karamazov and it didn’t go well, or rather at all: after managing to get through
half, a some chapters of the book, I was so annoyed by it that I hid it in the lowest, darkest shelf I could find.
So I did go through some trouble to choose the right edition for me. Not that there were any great choices, sadly. But when I found one that cynically removed the infamous twelve chapters that precede the actual story, I thought I had found my edition. The first chapters are okay, I spotted one or two typos which I condescendingly overlooked. Then I encountered entire words that were not only obviously misspelled but misplaced as well. And now, almost reaching half the book, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out this particular edition was overseen by a lolcat:
I’m still going through with it though. That’s the only way I’ll know if I’m up for the real version or not. The rest of my to-read books are much more interesting and have been selected in way more respectable editions, but I didn’t want to go all in for them before actually finishing Red Sorghum, which I’ll end up buying again if it doesn’t show up when I finish my stash of Le Mis.
Wow, talk about getting side-tracked! All this was just to report that I’ve been following instructions of rest and rest, accompanied with some rest. At least for today. Tomorrow I have to go back to work. I’m not only over the idea I have to go return to regular days, but I’ve managed to convince myself it’s better than the never-ending havoc that I lived the previous weeks, which is true, just not the much-needed vacations that are still a little more than a month ahead.
And now that I’ve gone on and on about that, I’m not going to dwell into what I really wanted to talk about: my extreme fatigue, the one that won’t go away with a weekend’s rest. And I won’t talk about it anynore because, well, ahem, I’m exhausted. But as I said on my earlier post, I do intend to keep the dust off this blog, so maybe I won’t feel so exhausted to talk about exhaustion tomorrow. Or maybe I’ll be so exhausted of exhaustion I’ll come back and write about something else entirely. In any case, I think I’ve mentioned the word exhaustion enough to justify not changing this post’s title, I’m just way too exhausted for that 😉 Also, here’s a pic of one of the kitties playing a heartfelt interpretation of Le Mis and exhaustion, I think he nailed it, plus the image gives me a nice little round argumentative circle, doesn’t it?
‘Til next time!
* If you don’t, just pretend you do but remember to put it on your to-google list