Sound, y Fury

Finished this famous novel. Once I was in a book club that met regularly to discuss this work but internal strife and intrigue tore it apart. If the bickering and backstabbing - literal backstabbing - hadn't brought about its downfall, it would have collapsed on its own contradictions. No I don't mourn the passing of the book club. I don't mourn Elizabeth's untimely passing, even though I held her in my arms as the blood left her heart through the stab wound in her back and watched the light leave her eyes. Did she whisper my name as she died? I like to think that she did but actually she said, "I feel jes like a squinch owl inside." It sure was a weird book club.

Yesterday

I woke up crying. Isn't that weird?