Friday, November 1, 2013

It

If you haven't read It by Stephen King, get going.  It's so good it hurts.  I've been rationing out sections of the book these past several weeks to try to make the story last longer.  For awhile, it seemed like it would never end--granted, it's over 1000 pages.  Now I'm down to the last 100 and as each page turns, I feel myself dying a little more and more inside.


Something to think about.


Why in the name of God are you giggling?

He didn't know, anymore than he knew why he should feel, in spite of the pain, such intense relief.  Was it maybe just because he was still alive, that the worst he had suffered was a broken arm, and there were still some pieces to pick up?  He settled for that, but years later, sitting in the Derry Library with a glass of the gin and prune juice in front of him and his aspirator near at hand, he told the others he thought it was something more than that; he had been old enough to feel something more, but not to understand or define it.

I think it was the first real pain I ever felt in my life, he would tell the others.  It wasn't what I thought it would be at all.  It didn't put an end to me as a person.  I think...it gave me a basis for comparison, finding out you could still exist inside the pain, in spite of the pain.

-Stephen King, It



Ears ring and teeth click
And ears ring and teeth click
And ears, ears
Ears ring and teeth click
And ears ring and teeth click
And ears ring and teeth click
And ears ring and teeth click
Ears, ears ring.

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