Blind as a bat and bored as anything.

I cannot believe this. I'm--actually--bored. And not just any kind of boredom. It's the restless kind, not the lazy kind (which happens more often). This sucks. In the span of four hours, I became an avatar's hairdresser, the creator of a crazy sketch which I call The Scary-Lookin Big-Eyed Bug-Eyed Barbie, a short-tempered sibling and a hungry kid. Gawd this is sad. I don't even want to read the book I borrowed from the library, which is Pale Fire. I just love the 999-line poem (seriously), in four cantos by John Shade, but I hate the commentary by his "friend", Dr. Kinbote. It's a long one, explaining each line of that 999-line poem, or relating some experience of his with Mr. Shade. The only thing that gets to me is that it sounds like as if he's focusing on himself instead of Mr. Shade or the poem. For example, Kinbote says something about offering a ride to Shade. He goes something roughly like this: "I saw John... and offered him a ride in my powerful Kramler..." No need to boast about the car. Or at one point he says: "The thick venom of envy began squirting at me as soon as academic suburbia realized that John Shade valued my society above that of all other people..." Sure, sure. It gets to be all about him. It's as if he uses the book to write about himself. Eargh. Do some honor to Shade's memory, will ya?!