It’s William Faulkner’s birthday today. Here is a Lego version of the author, posing with a Lego version of the author of the .357 project, which I have recommended a few times here before.
Today, in a rare press release (which included the above picture), the author of 357 wrote:
As today marks the upload of the 357th blog post, archiving a longer text from 1997 (Faulkner’s centenary!), I thought I should at least mark the occasion with some attempt at drumming up a little genuine traffic.
So here’s what might pass for a Lego version of me (caught somewhere between getting ready for bed and going to an aerobics class) endorsing .357 by toasting it with what appears to be a flask of weird green fluid.
There’s a lot of words on that website, so if you want to tackle the whole thing you probably want to get comfortable with a coffee and / or whiskey. But if you’re looking for a super-short post to get started, I recommend this one, which made me laugh.
Analysis Of The Find
“You’re right that is an interesting thing.”
“Yeah! I told you, didn’t I? I knew you’d find it interesting.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“I think I’ll just write it down in words, and people can enjoy it that way.”
A slice of hot buttered toast
in a solid block of ice.
And so the year continues, one thing after another, a succession of incidents, like all the others that have gone before. One thing after another, it’s always… Each year it’s the same, like this, a string of things that just happen to happen. When the year is sufficiently filled with successfully processed events, it is time to start a new one. The remaining available capacity is monitored through the year, so as each of the 365 episodes that make up a series takes place, their length is tweaked one way or another to achieve balance. When a new year kicks in, you might expect things to run faster, because the year is empty, and not weighed down… but what they do is they fill it up with fake future events, as ballast – hopes and fears about things that might happen, or just mindless speculation. That’s the way it works. It does…
Gawky young cowboys
Lounging at bus stops
Hey, they spur passersby