DH went to New York this weekend. New York, New York, city so nice they had to name it twice. eh.
But anyways, because he knew I'd miss him and need something to occpy my free time, eh, he went out and got me a book. [I am very proud to say that I'm starting to read non-babe related books again.] He got a book by William Henry Lewis, a Penn Falulkner Finalist, and a damn good writer if I can add my own .3 cent worth.
One of his short stories is called, "I Got Somebody in Staunton," and he's got this line that I just love:
"I'm back to feeling like a twenty-eight-year-old history professor, stuck in another situation where graduate degrees, pedagogical discourse, and academic distinctinction don't mean shit."
Its one of the best reads I've had in a long time. I wish I could scribe shit like that, where your voice just comes out like smooth butter on warm bread. Not like chunky ass govment peanut butter on .50 cent bread.
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