Thar She Blows.OR whatever.

Yeah.
So I haven't gotten as far along in the book as I would've liked to by today.
But I'm getting there.
Perhaps it's because this book is

I
N
S
A
N
E 
and I've had to sleep with my light on and windows open every night since I started reading it.

One thing that I'm getting more used to but that is still bothering me is reading the actual text.

 Then the footnotes.

Then back to the original text.

Not to mention the actually citation footnotes which in comparison are rather disappointing and quite frankly my dear, I don't give a damn.








Which very well may be a page and a half footnote later.

It's interrupts my thought process.
                                                                    And the flow of my eyes.

One thing I love is the narrative voice of Johnny Truant. At first he bothered me because he sounds just like my friend Cameron. His voice as a narrator and Cam's voice as a person are nearly identical. Same cynicism marinated in marijuana and spirits, paranoia, and an overactive mind. Highly intelligent despite what I can only assume as a rather grungy appearance. If Cam came across the Navidson Records he would go just as insane analyzing them. Now Johnny's epic footnotes are some of my favorite passages. Perhaps it's because Johnny's language is as lax and blunt as my personal speech outside (and sometimes inside) the classroom. Or perhaps it's because I am imposing a face and a body onto Johnny Truant.
 I don't know.

What I do know is that I'm excited to keep reading.
Even if that means I have to keep the lights on.
Even if that means I have to keep making big strong boys sleep at my house because I was already petrified of the dark and the things that move in the dark before I started reading the book.
And of enclosing spaces. Thus the open windows. 
And just like the hallway, it's fucking freezing in here.