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[personal profile] nirinia
There are writers, authors, and there are artists. There are those who write only to tell a story, prove a point or institute political havoc, and there are those that care not only for the story, the havoc or the point, but for the means by which it is told/intimated; the language. There are those that deem a day devoted to pondering the placement, addition or removal of a comma well spent, and there are those that publicly admit to grammatical ignorance.

"There is only one school of literature - that of talent." Vladimir Nabokov, the man with the unpronouncable name, and whose intellect I greatly admire.

* "A panda walks into a café. He orders a sandwich, eats it, then draws a gun and fires two shots in the air.
"Why?" asks the confused waiter, as the panda makes towards the exit. The panda produces a badly punctuated wildlife manual and tosses it over his shoulder.
"I'm a panda," he says, at the door. "Look it up."
The waiter turns to the relevant entry and, sure enough, finds the explanation.
"Panda. Large black-and-white bear-like mammal, native to China. Eats, shoots and leaves." **

**Sticklers really should get out more, and I could use a few more books by Truss.

PS. Footnotes really are wonderful fun. And should be used more frequently.



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On a different note, I've just found out how to say "'l'll attempt to..." in French. Amazing what a bit of reading does for the vocabulary, isn't it? "Je vais essayer de ..." Now all I have to write is half a page on La Suisse, find a picture or two, explain federalism very shortly, and make either a powerpoint or what is popularly called "overheads" or "foils". I'm not looking forward to it. French is never fun when it involves learning it by heart and speaking to the completely uninterested class, and equally incompetent teacher.

And I've a Psychology article to write, another one for Sociology, a PE test, an oral examination in Social-Studies, a History test and an oral English exam. The English exam could prove to be quite fun, all depending on the sensor.

Picked up Burgess' "A Dead Man in Deptford" again, and I'm becoming increasingly convinced he figured out how to "fuck books".

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