The end of an epic

There's nothing boring about working when you have a purpose. I'm gonna work my ass off in the coming weeks but since the money will go to stuff and rent for my new apartment that I'll share with my dearly beloved I don't mind at all. I actually enjoy it. Especially now that we are closing in a couple of months because that means a lot of redistributing and shit, which in turn means that I spend my days on the loading dock, carrying boxes, packing and wrapping everything. Almost no contact with annoying costumers. Wonderful.



You might wonder why, if I dislike costumers so much, I took a job as a salesman. Good question. It was the job I got a little over two years ago and I've stayed, thinking all the time that I won't stay much longer. Well, you get stuck. The salary isn't too bad though. Now that I see the light at the end of the tunnel I kind of like these last weeks of money-milking monotony.



I didn't finish the last Dune novel last night but I did it this morning and it has been a truly marvellous journey through space and time. I've read all sixteen books that Frank Herbert, his son Brian, and Kevin J. Anderson have produced and I'm not only amazed by the story itself but also by the scope of it all. To create an entire thriving universe and keep it up through sixteen tomes is truly the work of great artists.



The other day on the train I overheard a stupid kid who said to his friend that Science Fiction and Fantasy novels aren't real literature. I turned around and asked him why. He said that it isn't good literature because the authors have made everything up and set it in worlds that they themselves created. I asked him how that differed from most other forms of literature and why it was a bad thing. Seeing there's no answer to that queation, he fell silent. Victory was MINE! (hated evil smiley)