Wikipedia, I mean, "A Work in Progress": Well to the 5th power

Well Well Well Well Well.

I'm all written out today because I was working on a paper this morning. As I am going to be doing the same activity tomorrow, I thought, hey, why not screw around a little bit this afternoon... read a little of the onion, read some of the comp exam books, watch the rest of Russian Ark - a film tour through the Hermitage - that I thought was particularly important last night at about, well, bedtime.

You know the second option - to read some of the comp books, is quite interesting. Now that I'm supposed to be writing my paper, the comp books are again enticing. When I was supposed to be reading the comp books, the paper was all I wanted to do. There is the law desire problematic again eh! I have to do this, so I desire that. Yep, yep, yep, yep, yep.

Here is one of my favourite quotes from the novel I am working with - Strange Heaven:
They let her and the priest, a none-too-thinner version of Father Boyle, go into the kitchen and talk because the kitchen was usually locked when it wasn't meal time. Everyone knew this, so no one would disturb them by walking in.
When the priest saw that she had nothing to say, he began telling a story about working in the Philippines. He said there was this beautiful little girl there and everybody in the village loved her, but she had leukemia and was going to die. Everybody knew it and did everything they could to keep it from her. And the priest said that every day the little girl used to walk out to a cliff and stand looking out on the ocean for a while, and then she'd come back to the village. The priest said this struck him as very sad, so one day he followed her out to the cliff and he said to her " Well, you know, dear, everything is going to be all right, now." And the priest said she just looked at him and smiled. "She knew better," the priest said, finishing. "She knew better."
The priest sat with his fingers entwined and actually twiddled his thumbs for a few moment, smiling. "Ah dear, dear, dear, dear, dear," he said, looking around. (15).

It's that last line that does it for me. So human, so real. I find it tugs on my heart strings.

In other news, my wife and I have been suspecting that our little piglet, Kitster, has been eating something outside - been going after a little diet supplement, shall we say. So today, I walked outdoors, down the driveway to get the mail, and what to my wondrous eyes should appear, but a small, mangled mole. A little blind rodent, the only kind she can catch. Bloody and slain all over my driveway, - my dooryard - as they would say in the most upriver parts of Miramichi. So my suspicions were confirmed. I had to call my wife at noon and tell her this. I think she's writing up the report as we speak. We'll have Kitster a subpoena by tomorrow at the latest. When the authorities do come to get her, and they will, I sure hope they grow their nails long, sneak up on her about a half an hour before she plans to get up, claw on the bedspread for 15 minutes. Then top it all of with wining noises like someone's passing a kidney stone in the next room, only right in her ear. Perhaps they could purr a bit too. None of this calm purring, but some lawn mower style, no holds barred type stuff.

And before I go, I found a funny little parody of religion (Wicca and Christianity to be exact) in the onion today: