I hate theory. Well that may be a bit harsh, but I definitely do hate the majority of the prose that comprises literary theory. I read for a while, and then for some unexplainable reason I find myself organizing my CD collection. Confused, I force myself back to the books. A short time later I find myself peering over a boiling pot, apparently half-way through a pickle recipe, with no explanation as to why I thought I wanted to make pickles. Aggravated, I go back to the books. Then I find myself posting on the blog. Oh well. Here’s a funny story I found while I was supposed to be reading Spatial Form in Narrative. I highly recommend reading the linked story, and not so much the book.