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Young Geoffrey Dissed!
Girlfriend Leaps to His Defence!


Well, that was interesting - if more stressful than it should have been. After years of experience with flame-wars, I still find they pump more adrenaline into my system than they ought.

It all started with my ego (as what, in this world, Gentle Readers, does not?). I requested a review of my journal, curious as to what random strangers might make of my words.

Didn't find out. I did find out that my relationship with Laura is so appalling to some people that they could not get past it. I am a dirty old man, she at once a victim and a slut. And so, yes, I was unable to keep myself from responding and thus wasted far more of my precious time there than I should have. And so, Laura leapt to my (and her) defence, sparking a battle in another journal entirely.

Still, I suppose I enjoyed the exercise.

* * *

My "Christmas" has been mostly restful. I had 5 days off - mostly: I was on call, Web's pager with me at all times. Fortunately, there have been no disasters, so I haven't had to go into the office. I have answered a few emails and returned some phonecalls, but didn't have to spend a lot of time at it. With luck, tomorrow will be a quiet day, so that I can work on my site (which isn't as slackerish as that sounds; I want to learn to use .css files and what better way to practice that new skill than with a site that doesn't belong to a client?).

Still, I've needed the break and, if I haven't accomplished all that I had hoped to, I am well-rested and optimistic about the coming year.

(no subject)

Date: 2005-01-08 10:19 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] ed-rex.livejournal.com
Lolita is my favourite book.

I'm baffled by the appeal of that book. I picked up a copy some time last summer, read a few pages and put it down again, only to repeat the process a few times before tackling it in earnest a couple of months back.

I couldn't get through it, made it somewhere past the halfway mark before I gave it up as a lost cause. Nabokov writes well enough, but I simply was not interested in Humbert's growing madness. Right now, Nabokov sits there on my shelf with Salinger as among those writers almost everyone whose literary acumen I respect says is marvellous but who I find (at best) tedious and (at worst) tediously enraging.

What is it about the book that appeals to you? What am I missing?

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