are you happy now?

OK. I confess. I told a lie. I did NOT, as I wrote earlier, attempt to read “V.” but instead sat down and in a single uninterrupted session Thursday night consumed all 112 pages of “The Breast” by Philip Roth. Satisfied? And I still might not get around to Pynchon right away as I have my eye on several alternatives including “Slaughterhouse-Five” and “Rats, Lice and History” plus a bunch of William Golding and Barry N. Malzberg stored in the attic I uncovered late last week.

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About Marcus

Who me? Introverted, neurotic, self-absorbed, increasingly cynical observer of human nature and part time social critic in hiding. Most of my life spent avoiding growing up. The naive idealistic passions of youth have evolved into the eclectic eccentricities of adulthood. Northeast Florida small-town native, related to people I can't relate to. Simultaneously my own best friend and worst enemy. Politically and spiritually unaffiliated, my personal ideologies put me all over the map or off it completely.
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