How do you live your life?

Last month I ordered hundreds of dollars worth of books on Amazon about the meaning of life. Gross right? I actually am thinking I might lay out the strange trajectory of the books that I just read. Some of the books seem like they would be absolutely ridiculous, ahem “The Dance of Connection,” but I can often find just what I am looking for and leave the rest. I am like a scavenger; seeking to find the tidbits that sustain me and leave behind the bits that aren’t as appealing. Here are the books that I have read:

Overwhelmed: Work, Love, and Play When No One Has the Time

Unknown

Carry On, Warrior: The Power of Embracing Your Messy, Beautiful Life

carry on

The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You’re Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are

gift

Hyperbole and a Half: Unfortunate Situations, Flawed Coping Mechanisms, Mayhem, and Other Things That Happened

hyperbole

Man’s Search for Meaning

man

The Dance of Connection: How to Talk to Someone When You’re Mad, Hurt, Scared, Frustrated, Insulted, Betrayed, or Desperate

dance

One Person/Multiple Careers: The Original Guide to the Slash Career

slash

 

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Wild about Wilde

I am such a fool for Oscar Wilde. I think that he must of been quite a rogue. Unlike Sarah Palin, who saw being rogue as a gimmick, like a super sale at walmart. Wilde truly pushed boundries. He lived and breathed his work and the beautiful, complex, richness of life. Below is a documentary about Oscar’s life and the impact he had on modern society. He says such wild statements like, ‘one way or another I will be famous, if not famous-notorous.’

 

One of my favorite ideas from Wilde refers to the relationship between art and reality. To Wilde, creating beauty was more meaningful than living in the actuality of life. Art was a way to shock society with irony. It wasn’t moral, he created the idea of art was for art sake but yet it wasn’t superficial; he used art to poke at what society valued.

I wouldn’t be alone is saying Lady GaGa and Wilde had more in common than their love for men.

“When I look back on my life, it’s not that I don’t want to see things exactly as they happened; it’s just that I prefer to remember them in an artistic way. And truthfully, the lie of it all is much more honest, because I invented it.” -gaga

Oscar Wilde is one of my favorites. He would say that his job, as a writer, is to tell life in a way that is richer than reality. And he succeeds. His writing is engaging, lively and multi layered. Solidifying his triumph at developing a world in words -combined with my love for sitting at home, drinking tea, curled up with a dog-nothing makes me feel more alive than reading his works. For a man who wasn’t able to live his full expression of self, he lived in secrecy and said, “ones real life is the life one does not lead” writing was an opportunity for him to live a fuller version of life; Proust and Wilde had this in common.

Proust is a literary icon, though he exhausts me. He was sick for most of his childhood and his experiences and world is nothing I can connect to. He exaggerated the mundane aspects of life and relishes in simple, strange, pleasures. Including going on for too long about how he longs to kiss his mothers cheek! Oh he is too much! Though he and Wilde created worlds that drew from wells at emotion and sensation in their writing.

“No sooner had the warm liquid mixed with the crumbs touched my palate than a shudder ran through me and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary thing that was happening to me.”

Proust is talking about the infamous madeline or was he?? Some would argue that he wasn’t actually eating a madeline and was a victim of recall bias. Either way, it doesn’t matter; it just further supports art as the supreme reality.

 “All of us are in the gutter and looking at the star”-Wilde

cookies

 

 

 

*read*

An update of a previous reading list: 

1 Pride and Prejudice – Jane Austen
2 The Lord of the Rings – JRR Tolkien
3 Jane Eyre – Charlotte Bronte
4 Harry Potter series – J.K. Rowling
To Kill a Mockingbird – Harper Lee
6 The Bible
Wuthering Heights – Emily Bronte
Nineteen Eighty Four – George Orwell
9 His Dark Materials – Philip Pullman
10 Great Expectations – Charles Dickens
11 Little Women – Louisa M Alcott
12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles – Thomas Hardy
13 Catch 22 – Joseph Heller
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare
15 Rebecca – Daphne Du Maurier
16 The Hobbit – JRR Tolkien
17 Birdsong – Sebastian Faulks
18 Catcher in the Rye – JD Salinger
19 The Time Traveller’s Wife – Audrey Niffenegger
20 Middlemarch – George Eliot
21 Gone With The Wind – Margaret Mitchell
22 The Great Gatsby – F Scott Fitzgerald
23 Bleak House – Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace – Leo Tolstoy
25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – Douglas Adams
26 Brideshead Revisited – Evelyn Waugh
27 Crime and Punishment – Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28 Grapes of Wrath – John Steinbeck
29 Alice in Wonderland – Lewis Carroll
30 The Wind in the Willows – Kenneth Grahame
31 Anna Karenina – Leo Tolstoy
32 David Copperfield – Charles Dickens
33 Chronicles of Narnia – CS Lewis
34 Emma – Jane Austen
35 Persuasion – Jane Austen
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe – CS Lewis
37 The Kite Runner – Khaled Hosseini
38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin – Louis De Bernieres
39 Memoirs of a Geisha – Arthur Golden
40 Winnie the Pooh – AA Milne
41 Animal Farm – George Orwell
42 The Da Vinci Code – Dan Brown
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude – Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney – John Irving
45 The Woman in White – Wilkie Collins
46 Anne of Green Gables – LM Montgomery
47 Far From The Madding Crowd – Thomas Hardy
48 The Handmaid’s Tale – Margaret Atwood
49 Lord of the Flies – William Golding
50 Atonement – Ian McEwan
51 Life of Pi – Yann Martel
52 Dune – Frank Herbert
53 Cold Comfort Farm – Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility – Jane Austen
55 A Suitable Boy – Vikram Seth
56 The Shadow of the Wind – Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57 A Tale Of Two Cities – Charles Dickens
58 Brave New World – Aldous Huxley
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time – Mark Haddon
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera – Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61 Of Mice and Men – John Steinbeck
62 Lolita – Vladimir Nabokov
63 The Secret History – Donna Tartt
64 The Lovely Bones – Alice Sebold
65 Count of Monte Cristo – Alexandre Dumas
66 On The Road – Jack Kerouac
67 Jude the Obscure – Thomas Hardy
68 Bridget Jones’s Diary – Helen Fielding
69 Midnight’s Children – Salman Rushdie
70 Moby Dick – Herman Melville
71 Oliver Twist – Charles Dickens
72 Dracula – Bram Stoker
73 The Secret Garden – Frances Hodgson Burnett
74 Notes From A Small Island – Bill Bryson
75 Ulysses – James Joyce
76 The Bell Jar – Sylvia Plath
77 Swallows and Amazons – Arthur Ransome
78 Germinal – Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair – William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession – AS Byatt
81 A Christmas Carol – Charles Dickens
82 Cloud Atlas – David Mitchel
83 The Color Purple – Alice Walker
84 The Remains of the Day – Kazuo Ishiguro
85 Madame Bovary – Gustave Flaubert
86 A Fine Balance – Rohinton Mistry
87 Charlotte’s Web – EB White
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven – Mitch Albom
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes – Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90 The Faraway Tree Collection – Enid Blyton
91 Heart of Darkness – Joseph Conrad
92 The Little Prince – Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93 The Wasp Factory – Iain Banks
94 Watership Down – Richard Adams
95 A Confederacy of Dunces – John Kennedy Toole
96 A Town Like Alice – Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers – Alexandre Dumas
98 Hamlet – William Shakespeare
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory – Roald Dahl
100 Les Miserables – Victor Hugo

*really?*

I should stop myself, but I wont. Nietzsche is my most favorite thought right now. Today I was thinking how some of his ideas are very similar to Emerson’s. I just read a complete work of Emerson and Cornell West talks very highly of Emerson (he states that a women I respect, Gloria Steinem, embodies Emerson ideals as do many other “free” thinkers).  I enjoyed pieces of Emerson’s work but I felt like he was very superficial, and lacked depth in knowing. His arguments didn’t seem to hold weight to me. The were more like words on a page that seemed very nice and good but lacked structural integrity. Also he just felt like an elitist wuss. He is like the rich kid whose moms bought him all of his clothes and lied them out on the bed for him. He said the right things and got good grades but he lacked understanding. He could tell you how to build a house but his hands lacked callouses and he had never actually built a home. That is what Emerson was to me.

This is exactly what I feel “Nietzsche expands, develops, and dramatizes insights that Emerson presents in an almost casual way” This is all about the two. Nietzsche, on the other hand, admired Emerson. I feel like Emerson is a friend that I say, “no I like her, she is great, but lets not invite her to the dinner party.”

*poetry verse philosophy*

my friend Nietzsche was talking shit about poetry today he says things like this

“Poets are shameless with their experiences: they exploit them.”
― Friedrich Nietzsche

this is from an article titled: Why Do Poets Lie Too Much? Nietzsche, Poetry and the Different Voices of Zarathustra

They lie and their lies don’t have depth, they are superficial, shallow seas; neither their thoughts nor their feelings penetrate the depths. They are guided by boredom and lust, present shallowness as depth, pose as reconcilers, but they are, in fact, mixers, bring the unmixable together and create eclectic forms. They are poor in style and mix eclectically where the form and the content remain apart, where a variety of disparate elements is not creatively appropriated, which is the mixing of modern style, or lack of style.

Verily, their spirit itself is the peacock of peacocks, and a sea of vanity!

I thought this very interesting because well Zarathustra is a poet and as I think Nietzsche is too. But really Nietzsche is getting all pompous saying certain poets are shallow and trite while HE, isn’t. He is a poet of blood, experience and life.

Here is an interesting article Nietzsche, Philosophy, & Poetry  who makes this argument ” Therefore, we cannot draw a distinction between the philosopher as a seeker after objective truths and a poet as a seeker after wholly ‘subjective’ and relativistic experiences.”
But I think that there are some distinctions that can be made between poetry and philosophy. I don’t think that there is much reason or rhyme (this is an joke to myself) in making the distinction. Perhaps poetry is an expression of what is known while philosophy is an expression of knowing and the unknown. Here is a debate on the topic.

But more so when I read poetry I look for similarities. I see pieces of myself in the work. I feel the depths of the emotion and the impact of the experience. Oscar Wilde spoke that the artist has a great responsibility to expand experiences  to make them more vibrant that the actual event. In that the act of reading about it is a greater emotional sensation that actually being in it. To me, that is what poetry strives for. Philosophy on the other hand, I read differently, I read for similarity and consistency with my own mode of thought but I also read it to breach my own experience to bring me to a place of uncertainty.

Nietzsche is a bit inconsistent from what I am gathering and he also loved poetry. His “favorite poet” was Friedrich Hölderlin he was diagnosed with extreme hypochondria and later declared “mentally unfit.” Who wants a “mentally fit” poet?

‘Another day’

Another day. I follow another path,
Enter the leafing woodland, visit the spring
Or the rocks where the roses bloom
Or search from a look-out, but nowhere

Love are you to be seen in the light of day
And down the wind go the words of our once so
Beneficent conversation…

Your beloved face has gone beyond my sight,
The music of your life is dying away
Beyond my hearing and all the songs
That worked a miracle of peace once on

My heart, where are they now? It was long ago,
So long and the youth I was has aged nor is
Even the earth that smiled at me then
The same. Farewell. Live with that word always.

For the soul goes from me to return to you
Day after day and my eyes shed tears that they
Cannot look over to where you are
And see you clearly ever again.

*hermann hesse*

Like any good college student I read a lot of Herman Hesse. I think that Hesse is an amazing and thought provoking writer and I love how he blends dualities like masculine and femininity, east and west, thinking and feeling, reality and imagined, man and animal, past and future…etc. After reading quite a bit of his work  (I am one of those kind of readers, I like to read the authors entire collection) I noticed, all of his books seemed to follow the same skeletal structure. Man longs for something different or is forced to be exposed to something different. The difference confronts who he was and or his inner demons. Usually the dualism comes into play here and he must struggle with his desires/longings/wants/isolation. There is chaos here. Then there is some sort of transcending where the newly enlightened character resolves and accepts his conflicts.

I was reading Nietzsche today and scribbled in the margin, “I wonder what Hermann Hesse thought of this?”  there are a lot of similar underlining themes, this spawned a guick-ish internet search. Fact: Hermann Hesse had a crush on Nietzsche too.

“For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfil themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured. And every young farmboy knows that the hardest and noblest wood has the narrowest rings, that high on the mountains and in continuing danger the most indestructible, the strongest, the ideal trees grow.

Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.

A tree says: A kernel is hidden in me, a spark, a thought, I am life from eternal life. The attempt and the risk that the eternal mother took with me is unique, unique the form and veins of my skin, unique the smallest play of leaves in my branches and the smallest scar on my bark. I was made to form and reveal the eternal in my smallest special detail.

A tree says: My strength is trust. I know nothing about my fathers, I know nothing about the thousand children that every year spring out of me. I live out the secret of my seed to the very end, and I care for nothing else. I trust that God is in me. I trust that my labor is holy. Out of this trust I live.

When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy, life is not difficult. Those are childish thoughts. Let God speak within you, and your thoughts will grow silent. You are anxious because your path leads away from mother and home. But every step and every day lead you back again to the mother. Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all.

A longing to wander tears my heart when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening. If one listens to them silently for a long time, this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning. It is not so much a matter of escaping from one’s suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home, for a memory of the mother, for new metaphors for life. It leads home. Every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death, every grave is mother.

So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.”
Hermann Hesse

Versus Ayn Rand who thought

Philosophically, Nietzsche is a mystic and an irrationalist. His
metaphysics consists of a somewhat “Byronic” and mystically
“malevolent” universe; his epistemology subordinates reason to “will,”
or feeling or instinct or blood or innate virtues of character. But,
as a poet, he projects at times (not consistently) a magnificent
feeling for man’s greatness, expressed in emotional, not intellectual,
terms.’ *Objectivist* March 1968, p. 6

…….
‘Nietzsche’s rebellion against altruism consisted of replacing the
sacrifice of oneself to others by the sacrifice of others to oneself.
He proclaimed that the ideal man is moved, not by reason, but by his
“blood,” by his innate instincts, feelings and will to power–that he
is predestined by birth to rule others and sacrifice them to himself,
while they are predestined by birth to be his victims and slaves–that
reason, logic, principles are futile and debilitating, that morality
is useless, that the “superman” is “beyond good and evil,” that he is
a “beast of prey” whose ultimate standard is nothing but his own whim.
Thus Nietzsche’s rejection of the Witch Doctor consisted of elevating
Attila into a moral ideal–which meant: a double surrender of morality
to the Witch Doctor.’ *For the New Intellectual* p. 36

Ayn Rand can s my d. I am at the irrational place with my love where I have decided that Nietzsche is being ironic and sort of poking fun at us all when he talks about women, and compassion. He strokes my hair and tells me “baby, I really didn’t mean it.”

To be totally honest, I don’t really like Ayn Rand, but this is a really interesting interview with her.

*I love nietzsche*

John Fante is one of my favorite authors and I have read every book he has written and at least one book about him. From his works I was first intrigued by Nietzsche. This is a piece from his book ask the dust

“I pulled the huge door open and it gave a little cry like weeping. Above the altar sputtered the blood-red eternal light, illuminating in crimson shadow the quiet of almost two thousand years. It was like death, but I could remember screaming infants at baptism too. I knelt. This was habit, this kneeling. I sat down. Better to kneel, for the sharp bite at the knees was a distraction from the awful quiet. A prayer. Sure, one prayer: for sentimental reasons. Almighty God, I am sorry I am now an atheist, but have you read Nietzsche? Ah, such a book! Almighty God, I will play fair in this. I will make You a proposition. Make a great writer out of me, and I will return to the Church. And please, dear God, one more favor: make my mother happy. I don’t care about the Old Man …”

I know it is more user friendly to have less text but I love this story so much and I can’t stand to cut out more of it.

The road to Los Angeles
They went to bed. I had the divan and they had the bedroom. When their door closed I got out the magazines and piled into bed. I was glad to be able to look at the girls under the lights of the big room. It was a lot better than that smelly closet. I talked to them about an hour, went into the mountains with Elaine, and to the South Seas with Rosa, and finally in a group meeting with all of them spread around me, I told them I played no favorites and that each in her turn would get her chance. But after a while I got awfully tired of it, for I got to feeling more and more like an idiot until I began to hate the idea that they were only pictures, flat and single-faced and so alike in color and smile. And they all smiled like whores. It all got very hateful and I thought, Look at yourself! Sitting here and talking to a lot of prostitutes. A fine superman you turned out to be! What if Nietzsche could see you now? And Schopenhauer what would he think? And Spengler! Oh, would Spengler roar at you! You fool, you idiot, you swine, you beast, you rat, you filthy, contemptible, disgusting little swine! Suddenly I grabbed the pictures up in a batch and tore them to pieces and threw them down the bowl in the bathroom. Then I crawled back to bed and kicked the covers off. I hated myself so much that I sat up in bed thinking the worst possible things about myself. Finally I was so despicable there was nothing left to do but sleep. It was hours before I dozed off. The fog was thinning in the east and the west was black and grey. It must have been three o’clock. From the bedroom I heard my mother’s soft snores. By then I was ready to commit suicide, and so thinking I fell asleep.

……..
They wouldn’t give me a ride. He killed crabs, that fellow up there ahead. Why give him a ride? He loves paper ladies in clothes closets. Think of it! So don’t give him a ride, that Frankenstein, that toad in the road, that black spider, snake, dog, rat, fool, monster, idiot. They wouldn’t give me a ride; all right so what! And see if I care! To hell with all of you! It suits me fine. I love to walk on these God-given legs, and by God I’ll walk. Like Nietzsche. Like Kant. Immanuel Kant. What do you know about Immanuel Kant? You fools in your V-8s and Chevrolets!

……..
It was always the park. I read a hundred books. There was Nietzsche and Schopenhauer and Kant and Spengler and Strachey and others. Oh Spengler! What a book! What weight! Like the Los Angeles Telephone Directory. Day after day I read it, never understanding it, never caring either, but reading it because I liked one growling word after another marching across pages with somber mysterious rumblings. And Schopenhauer! What a writer! For days I read him and read him, remembering a bit here and a bit there. And such things about women! I agreed. Exactly my own feelings on the matter. Ah man, what a writer!

I am currently reading Thus Spoke Zarathustra. I love it. I thought that Nietzsche would be masculine, aggressive and verbose but this book is simple and sweet. It is gentle and feels like an old, maybe slightly odd, man telling a story to a little girl. I don’t know if I am “getting it” though because everything I read about him paints him is another light, like WTF is this (besides some christian dude throwing up all over Nietzsche’s work). True, I am less than 100 pages in but so far I want to pour tea for him as he eats a cracker and I tell him, I like what he has to say and I also like his mustache.

and here is an exciting educational journey

*Words I looked up today*

I haven’t posted in so long. I think my brain melted a little bit and for a period it became really slow. I have all sorts of reasons that I think this happened from increase soda consumption, white bread eating, and winter with it’s lack of vitamin D and fun all were culprits in stealing my smart juice. The sun is shinning (well not right now) and along with it I am ready to fill my brain with stuff again.

I started a book awhile ago that I had to stop reading because the words were too big and the ideas to confusing for me at the time (brain melting time) and instead I read something like three cups of tea and watched Oprah. Thanks god that period of my life is over, though I still love Oprah (perhaps I will explain later or perhaps you will have to judge me and say, uuuuuuuhhhhhhh?).

From Democracy Matters by Cornel West. Words that Cornell knows and I didn’t until now.

plutocracy    the rule or control of society by the wealthy 2. a state or government characterized by the rule of the wealthy 3. a class that exercises power by virtue of its wealth

Cash rules everything around me, including you.

milquetoast a very timid, unassertive, spineless person, especially one who is easily dominated or intimidated: a milquetoast who’s afraid to ask for a raise.

Not to be confused with milk toast.

shib·bo·leth a peculiarity of pronunciation, behavior, mode of dress, etc., that distinguishes a particular class or set of persons. 2.a slogan; catchword. 3. a common saying or belief with little current meaning or truth.

Urban dictionary: Word for a slag word used to denote something cool. such as grovy, shibby, sick

ol·i·gar·chy a form of government in which all power is vested in a few persons or in a dominant class or clique; government by the few. 2.a state or organization so ruled. 3.the persons or class so ruling.

sal·vif·ic of or pertaining to redemptive power.

If you google image redemptive power you get a picture of meatloaf singing.

hu·bris excessive pride or self-confidence; arrogance.

I don’t know the meaning of the word hubris… And I’m just about to enter a “define the word hubris” competition. But I’m not worried. I’m pretty confident that I will win it anyway. –Richard Herring

my·op·ic Ophthalmology . pertaining to or having myopia;  nearsighted. 2.unable or unwilling to act prudently; shortsighted. 3.lacking tolerance or understanding; narrow-minded.

This is pretty sad that I looked this up

he·gem·o·ny leadership or predominant influence exercised by one nation over others, as in a confederation. 2.leadership; predominance. 3. (especially among smaller nations) aggression or expansionism by large nations in an effort to achieve world domination.

cu·pid·i·ty eager or excessive desire, especially to possess something; greed; avarice.

cupidity a story

be·reft  a simple past tense and past participle of bereave. 2.deprived: They are bereft of their senses. He is bereft of all happiness.

Where had I heard this wind before
Change like this to a deeper roar?
What would it take my standing there for,
Holding open a restive door,
Looking down hill to a frothy shore?
Summer was past and the day was past.
Sombre clouds in the west were massed.
Out on the porch’s sagging floor,
Leaves got up in a coil and hissed,
Blindly striking at my knee and missed.
Something sinister in the tone
Told me my secret my be known:
Word I was in the house alone
Somehow must have gotten abroad,
Word I was in my life alone,
Word I had no one left but God.

love Robert Frost

i·con·o·clas·tic attacking or ignoring cherished beliefs and long-held traditions, etc., as being based on error, superstition, or lack of creativity: an iconoclastic architect whose buildings are like monumental sculptures. 2.breaking or destroying images, especially those set up for religious veneration.

This does the same thing to me that fiction and non-fiction does. It makes me confused.

xen·o·pho·bic  unreasonably fearful of or hating anyone or anything foreign or strange.

Xeno means stranger. Xena means warrior princess

per·ni·cious  causing insidious harm or ruin; ruinous; injurious; hurtful: pernicious teachings; a pernicious lie. 2.deadly; fatal: a pernicious disease. 3.Obsolete . evil; wicked.

dr.evil

pro·pi·tious presenting favorable conditions; favorable: propitious weather. 2.indicative of favor; auspicious: propitious omens. 3.favorably inclined; disposed to bestow favors or forgive: propitious gods.

I realize that this is the least interesting post known to man…Sorry. I am effort to make this more fun I will add little extra for your learning fun. Is that making it worse?

*do.you.read.what.i.read*

Bold those books you’ve read in their entirety.

1 Pride and Prejudice – Jane Austen
2 The Lord of the Rings – JRR Tolkien
3 Jane Eyre – Charlotte Bronte
4 Harry Potter series – J.K. Rowling
To Kill a Mockingbird – Harper Lee
6 The Bible
Wuthering Heights – Emily Bronte
Nineteen Eighty Four – George Orwell
9 His Dark Materials – Philip Pullman
10 Great Expectations – Charles Dickens
11 Little Women – Louisa M Alcott
12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles – Thomas Hardy
13 Catch 22 – Joseph Heller
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare
15 Rebecca – Daphne Du Maurier
16 The Hobbit – JRR Tolkien
17 Birdsong – Sebastian Faulks
18 Catcher in the Rye – JD Salinger
19 The Time Traveller’s Wife – Audrey Niffenegger
20 Middlemarch – George Eliot
21 Gone With The Wind – Margaret Mitchell
22 The Great Gatsby – F Scott Fitzgerald
23 Bleak House – Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace – Leo Tolstoy
25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – Douglas Adams
26 Brideshead Revisited – Evelyn Waugh
27 Crime and Punishment – Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28 Grapes of Wrath – John Steinbeck
29 Alice in Wonderland – Lewis Carroll
30 The Wind in the Willows – Kenneth Grahame
31 Anna Karenina – Leo Tolstoy
32 David Copperfield – Charles Dickens
33 Chronicles of Narnia – CS Lewis
34 Emma – Jane Austen
35 Persuasion – Jane Austen
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe – CS Lewis
37 The Kite Runner – Khaled Hosseini
38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin – Louis De Bernieres
39 Memoirs of a Geisha – Arthur Golden
40 Winnie the Pooh – AA Milne
41 Animal Farm – George Orwell
42 The Da Vinci Code – Dan Brown
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude – Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney – John Irving
45 The Woman in White – Wilkie Collins
46 Anne of Green Gables – LM Montgomery
47 Far From The Madding Crowd – Thomas Hardy
48 The Handmaid’s Tale – Margaret Atwood
49 Lord of the Flies – William Golding
50 Atonement – Ian McEwan
51 Life of Pi – Yann Martel
52 Dune – Frank Herbert
53 Cold Comfort Farm – Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility – Jane Austen
55 A Suitable Boy – Vikram Seth
56 The Shadow of the Wind – Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57 A Tale Of Two Cities – Charles Dickens
58 Brave New World – Aldous Huxley
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time – Mark Haddon
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera – Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61 Of Mice and Men – John Steinbeck
62 Lolita – Vladimir Nabokov
63 The Secret History – Donna Tartt
64 The Lovely Bones – Alice Sebold
65 Count of Monte Cristo – Alexandre Dumas
66 On The Road – Jack Kerouac
67 Jude the Obscure – Thomas Hardy
68 Bridget Jones’s Diary – Helen Fielding
69 Midnight’s Children – Salman Rushdie
70 Moby Dick – Herman Melville
71 Oliver Twist – Charles Dickens
72 Dracula – Bram Stoker
73 The Secret Garden – Frances Hodgson Burnett
74 Notes From A Small Island – Bill Bryson
75 Ulysses – James Joyce
76 The Bell Jar – Sylvia Plath
77 Swallows and Amazons – Arthur Ransome
78 Germinal – Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair – William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession – AS Byatt
81 A Christmas Carol – Charles Dickens
82 Cloud Atlas – David Mitchel
83 The Color Purple – Alice Walker
84 The Remains of the Day – Kazuo Ishiguro
85 Madame Bovary – Gustave Flaubert
86 A Fine Balance – Rohinton Mistry
87 Charlotte’s Web – EB White
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven – Mitch Albom
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes – Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90 The Faraway Tree Collection – Enid Blyton
91 Heart of Darkness – Joseph Conrad
92 The Little Prince – Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93 The Wasp Factory – Iain Banks
94 Watership Down – Richard Adams
95 A Confederacy of Dunces – John Kennedy Toole
96 A Town Like Alice – Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers – Alexandre Dumas
98 Hamlet – William Shakespeare
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory – Roald Dahl
100 Les Miserables – Victor Hugo

from wallflower

*love*

Everyday my wife expresses her love for me. She says, did I tell you how much I love you today? Everyday. Everyday she says that.”

Moe Rubenstein, August 24, 2008.  

Love Ever After will share the love stories of couples who have been married for at least 50 years. Inspired by a letter my grandfather wrote to my grandmother during World War II (and rediscovered after he passed away in 2007), I began photographing and interviewing couples in the New York area as a way to preserve their stories and to illuminate our universal experience of love.