DAILY HOLDEN-O-METER: Holden. . .started reading his latest assigned novel early, instead of trying to read all of it by Friday, which is a good thing, considering that it is over 400 pages long! 
Only 300 more pages to go. . .and these are long pages. . .because Holden must not like Gothic literature. . .but Goth girls are A.O.K. 
Volleyball has been keeping Holden busy lately--five matches in the past two days. It will be nice to receive those checks, but they are practically a month away.
Friday will consist of: reading, reading and more reading, doing laundry and, hopefully, my daily four-mile exercise walk.
Well, if you have read this far, and you're on Holden's friends list (or you remembered to wish Holden a Happy Birthday recently), please step up to the plate and be one of the first five to request your free--absolutely no obligation--Gmail (Google) e-mail account. Holden has five invites to spare.
Should you be one of the first five to request this in Holden's journal. . .that should be obvious enough. . .be sure to drop him an e-mail through SG. . .because he'll be needing it to set you up.
My Current Literary Contribution:
Gustavo Adolfo Bcquer, 1836-1871(?)
(born G.A. Domnguez Bastida)
Rima XI
por Gustavo Adolfo Bcquer
Yo soy ardiente, yo soy morena,
yo soy el smbolo de la pasin,
de ansia de goces mi alma est llena.
A m me buscas?
No es a ti, no.
Mi frente es plida, mis trenzas de oro:
puedo brindarte dichas sin fin,
yo de ternura guardo un tesoro.
A m me llamas?
No, no es a ti.
Yo soy un sueo, un imposible,
vano fantasma de niebla y luz;
soy incorprea, soy intangible:
no puedo amarte.
Oh ven, ven t!
"Holden's Translation" (Please be aware that literary translation takes many years of study. Since I couldn't find a translation on the Internet, this will have to do for now):
Rhyme XI
by Gustavo Adolfo Bcquer
I am burning, I am brunette,
I am the symbol of passion,
My soul is full of anxious yearning.
Do you seek me?
No, not you.
My face is fair; by braids, of gold:
I can give you endless riches,
From my tenderness I guard a treasure.
Are you calling me?
No, not you.
I am a dream, an impossibility,
vain ghost of fog and light;
I am incorporal, I am intangible:
I cannot love you.
Oh, come, please come!
Only 300 more pages to go. . .and these are long pages. . .because Holden must not like Gothic literature. . .but Goth girls are A.O.K.
Volleyball has been keeping Holden busy lately--five matches in the past two days. It will be nice to receive those checks, but they are practically a month away.
Friday will consist of: reading, reading and more reading, doing laundry and, hopefully, my daily four-mile exercise walk.
Well, if you have read this far, and you're on Holden's friends list (or you remembered to wish Holden a Happy Birthday recently), please step up to the plate and be one of the first five to request your free--absolutely no obligation--Gmail (Google) e-mail account. Holden has five invites to spare.
Should you be one of the first five to request this in Holden's journal. . .that should be obvious enough. . .be sure to drop him an e-mail through SG. . .because he'll be needing it to set you up.
My Current Literary Contribution:
Gustavo Adolfo Bcquer, 1836-1871(?)
(born G.A. Domnguez Bastida)
Rima XI
por Gustavo Adolfo Bcquer
Yo soy ardiente, yo soy morena,
yo soy el smbolo de la pasin,
de ansia de goces mi alma est llena.
A m me buscas?
No es a ti, no.
Mi frente es plida, mis trenzas de oro:
puedo brindarte dichas sin fin,
yo de ternura guardo un tesoro.
A m me llamas?
No, no es a ti.
Yo soy un sueo, un imposible,
vano fantasma de niebla y luz;
soy incorprea, soy intangible:
no puedo amarte.
Oh ven, ven t!
"Holden's Translation" (Please be aware that literary translation takes many years of study. Since I couldn't find a translation on the Internet, this will have to do for now):
Rhyme XI
by Gustavo Adolfo Bcquer
I am burning, I am brunette,
I am the symbol of passion,
My soul is full of anxious yearning.
Do you seek me?
No, not you.
My face is fair; by braids, of gold:
I can give you endless riches,
From my tenderness I guard a treasure.
Are you calling me?
No, not you.
I am a dream, an impossibility,
vain ghost of fog and light;
I am incorporal, I am intangible:
I cannot love you.
Oh, come, please come!
nottingham is the town of robin hood, and although i would like to see myself in his footsteps, i think i have a long way to go!