I think I'd be much happier if I could go around with a dave brubeck song stuck in my head constantly.

jillions of people have seen the film the graduate, but I've never met anyone besides myself who has read the novel by charles webb. that's a shame; webb has a very unique writing style, very heavy on deadpan dialogue. forty years after penning the graduate he has published a sequel entitled home school. it has received favorable reviews and my copy is on the way. I'm excited all out of proportion, as fans of the ben/elaine/mrs. robinson triangle really should be.

I only hope that it's a satisfying read. I hate it when an author publishes a sequel to a novel I love only to have events take a rotten turn. if the book is by a different writer you can say, "oh, well. it really doesn't count." but sometimes the original author whips up a real stinker. anyone read son of rosemary? don't. because guess what? everything that happens in rosemary's baby is a DREAM. yep, the whole novel doesn't happen. sometimes I wonder about ira levin.

edit: have just discovered that he died in november. alas.

oh, today's my birthday. don't get all excited; I'm not. I was already cranky about turning twenty-seven for various reasons. then, in her grand tradition of noticing the most delightfully random aspects of the obvious, ali mentioned that "twenty-seven has the most syllables of any age we've ever been." yikes.

at any rate, I think this clip sums it all up nicely: