i have absolutely nothing to communicate, no interesting tidbit to share. nothing. i made myself some pancakes this morning, i am sorting mail and resisting the urge to feel guilty about the lack of a similar urge to exercise.
i just finished a book by p.d. james that had been made into a movie a couple of years back: "the children of men". the movie, though good, had little in common with the book aside from its basic premise that mankind is no longer able to procreate along with all the socio-political implications of that fact.
she is a prodigious and gifted writer (though the natural editor in me has found her penchant for repeating favourite turns of phrase from novel to novel rather annoying) but good god, what a depressing view of life. in the past few months i have read over half a dozen of her predominantly mystery novels and find that few characters in her books know or understand love, few have had loving homes and the majority feel nothing if not outright hatred for their parents. so either she is a pessimistic if unusual product of a miserable childhood, or england is filled to the brim with emotionally stunted borderline sociopaths with no sense of humour whatsoever. having never been there i can't make the call, but good lord, could a whole nation be so messed up?
then again north america is a continent filled to the brim with pampered darlings with an overinflated sense of self-worth and entitlement and a stunted sense of intellectual curiosity and social responsibility, so perhaps it's true after all.
hmmm....generalisations on a national scale are fun!!! where are YOU from and what does that make you?