the coldest night of the year

i finished the alice munro, and went right into don delillo's mao II, which, i learned today from kevin, is considered one of the great post-modern novels of our time. just as i found the first time, the first half is electric, while the second half, where bill goes to london, comes as an initial jolt. there's a delightful pacing to the photography scenes. the future belongs to crowds. the theme is one of mass experience, i guess. bill gray, maybe a cipher for delillo himself, whines about his role as a novelist, in terms of creating public myths and spreading ideas, being ursurped by terrorists. terrorism is a theme of delillo's, i think; it is also a element in the names, which, if pressed, i might name as my favourite delillo novel. next, i want to read libra or one of his early books, maybe great jones street. i'll do what my mother did in university; read novels while in transport, but focus on schoolwork otherwise. i can sympathize with the book-club frenzy, and wonder why it passed so quickly. reading mao II, i'd suggest that it passed because we have news to collectively engage us now, rather than novels. the terrorists and their explosives have taken over our imaginative reins. it's more complex than that though. it's definitely more complex than the passing of a fad, too. are there still book clubs? i don't know.

delillo is often criticized for writing unrealistic dialogue. as i told kevin this afternoon, if i want realistic dialogue, i can go talk to my neighbours. i don't read novels that mirror my existence; i already live it.

in the great gatsby, the title character is revealed at the end to have embarked for some time on a constant regimen of self-improvement. it occured to me on saturday, while wading to my neck in alouette lake, that the best way to ward off my nasty self-destructive streak would be to build up my arsenal of tangible skills, rather than coast on intangibles, as i plan to do until april 30th 2006. i could learn to swim, learn to drive, and set myself a regular sleep pattern. get to work before 8.30 every day. right now, if provoked, i could tell you that i can capably chair a meeting, and am able to speak and write well, using complex sentences, without preparation. i don't edit my essays, and routinely get 'A' grades on papers that i can't bear to even read over, let alone revise. when i attempt to revise, i go into tailspin. so, i simply hand in the bastards as i bang them out. i tend to not put down sentences that are malformed; i edit as i write, constantly prodding, but doing it all in one go. i do well on in-class exams. jan will write her in-class essays out twice, once rough, once good. it's an exercise that i can't even imagine. i bet that i could go from A to A+ if i were to spend more time on my writing, but then i'd have nothing to look forward to. i keep expectations low. i've yet to seriously damage my life by way of self-destruction, but i don't doubt that it is in my future to lose a good job through sheer willpower. i'll note, seriously, that the fact that i still have my current job indicates exactly how much i don't want it anymore. no, i do want it, but rather, how little i value the judgement of those around me. i don't feel that this is a true test of what i can do. one day i will get to that point, and i will be lost.

one day i will hit the wall. i thought it would be grade 12. then i thought it would be university. then i thought it would be the student society. now i imagine it will be upper division history courses. after that, grad school, should the unforseen come to pass. it will definitely be professional politics, one day. i live in fear of the wall, the day that i can no longer coast on intangibles. maybe this is guilt, for not building houses while living in a society that needs new houses more than it needs history papers and reports on meetings with senior administrators. please don't bring class politics into this, because i'd rather not venture down that path of self-reflection.

see, these are exercises in the confessional genre. i learned in january that news writing is genre writing, and i would be a fool to claim that this is anything different.