The secular Sacred

I often have a hard time maintaining the "assignments" presented in class, this is due in part to my avoidance of taking notes. Long years I have devoted to the art of note taking. I have endured cramped hands on harem a pens and pencils only to walk away with a half-heard lecture and labyrinth of unplanned and unremembered cryptic abbreviations and indecipherable misspellings. So I stoped dictating and started listening instead but alas, memory fails. However, I did remember this particular assignment because fits my philosophy of life and literature.
That is: that all things are sacred, just frequently overlooked.

For my veteran peers, you'll probably groan and roll your eyes (once again) to hear me speak about my particular sacred literature. I hadn't realized that my taste have become hackneyed until last semester, when asked why I chose to focus on Waiting for Godot  for and assignment, Zach Morris, a former fellow student called out in monotonous grievance, "Because Jon is obsessed with Samuel Beckett"
But, I don't care. I am obsessed, and Zach isn't here anymore.

I have many "sacred texts" but there is one that rises above all the rest, or perhaps it is better said it sinks below all the rest, plunging to depths that no other writer can take you, such dark and deep abysmal recesses that you have no other choice than to find you self elated and higher than you thought literarily possible. This monolith (triolith?) of exalting and almost asphyxiating power would have to be Samuel Beckett's The Three Novels. I have read the book twice, well once honestly, the second time I couldn't finish The Unameable. There is no other work I have come across that is nearly as moving. I pined over this work, it nearly consumed me and to this day still haunts my psyche. But I welcome the apparitions, none are more colorful than the black and gray ghosts that still swim in my mind.