"...monkeys with a gift of speech, a gift which brings us suffering, we are its minions. We belong to suffering; when we misbehave, it tightens its hold on us. We have its fingers always around our throats, which makes it difficult to talk; you have to be careful, if you want to be able to eat... The merest slip and you're strangled... Life's not worth living..."
"But there is still love, Bardamu!"
"Love, Arthur, is a poodle's chance of attaining the infinite, and personally I have my pride," I answered him.
L-F Céline, Journey To The End Of The Night
Books this poodle is attempting to love working his way through... Hit page 83 of the DFW, the first with real mathematical notation and, simple as the formula was, it was brick-wall, eyes glaze over time for E@L. It's just a total alien language, and also please remember that I did maths (poorly) in the 70s, and probably used a different way to do (and write) these things from the way most of you poodles of latter generations did, Wallace included.
However, by the end
No wonder I'm as grumpy as Dr Destouches (above) without his pussy (Bébert) to stroke.
p.s. Why? You gotta have a hobby.