Sitting on park bench drinking BigCoffeeCorp coffee instead of inside bar drinking beer while son does guitar lessons. It's a beautiful day but the beauty brings out thousands of screaming kids to this little urban parkette. The kids run around chaotically playing made-up games and I am reminded of Eschaton. I am now on page 343 about to start on what appears to be an Ennet House chapter but am still finding it hard to forget that Lord has planted his head inside the computer terminal in the previous chapter. Classic stuff. You know the made-up game of eschaton itself is fascinating but I was intrigued by the way dfw positions Pemulis. What does Pemulis represent as he watches his beloved war game unravel? Are there really rules to war? Is discpline really necessary even though you've got big bombs? Does immaturity, ignorance and a disregard for rules lead to war? Is violence of the kind that errupts between the younger ETA Eschatoners actually uglier than a delibrate and organized war? F*uck- you know what? I am beginning to feel like Pemulis here. These little runts are starting to piss me off as the Moms gossip and let them run free. I've got to get out of here. Can't think. Can't blog. Can't read. Whence beauty?
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