I'm off to Bancroft for this Canadian long weekend. I'm taking the new 'cross bike up and planning to give it a workout on some dirt roads and then finally write a review of it next week.
Thinking of long weekends makes me think of the Work Less Party. If you haven't read this post yet, give it a go, and think to yourself "Wow, Conrad is out of his mind, but I wish he was Prime Minister."
I've been thinking about one of my favourite books recently, probably because I just got hooked on Shelfari (I'm on there as "Tuco" if you decide to register).
I thought I'd copy this passage for the hill climbers out there - for those of you who enjoy suffering, who know that you aren't truly alive unless you can feel your life draining away. The reason I think it's appropriate is that when we're climbing those hills, we're alone with whatever is driving us, and maybe, as the old Mexican man speaking to Billy says, that isn't a good thing.
Disclaimer - Cormac McCarthy is a famous stylist. The lack of punctuation is intentional. (And I think "huerfano" means "orphan").
He told the boy that although he was huerfano still he must cease his wanderings and make for himself some place in the world because to wander in this way would become for him a passion and by this passion he would become estranged from men and so ultimately from himself. He said that the world could only be known as it existed in men's hearts. For while it seemed a place which contained men it was in reality a place contained within them and therefore to know it one must look there and come to know those hearts and to do this one must live with men and not simply pass among them.