Now that this blog seems to have been most definitely abandoned, we can chat at a more paced level. Flirt, more like.
I've not been reading as much as I like, but who does, really, these days, with all the distractions of, of all things, New Yorker and McSweeney's. For the unaware, NYer has a reasonably decent Snapchat channel, and Richard Brody, the movie critic, is quite suitable for the format.
I've been working my way through Karl Ove Knaausgaard's My Struggle saga as of late. Began with Book 4 because it's the funniest, lightest, and the most readable one. I have the other three on my desk, with Book 1 partly-read, and will be done by the end of this month.
If you're into audio books, or funny books, or David Sedaris, his latest work Diabetes With Owls is reasonably good too.
Rushdie's 1001 Nights, I'm maybe a quarter way through, but somehow it's turned into my drink-and-read book, and I seem to be unable to fully enjoy without a tall glass of beer in a restaurant, alone.
Which brings me to the topic of loneliness. A really, really, interesting topic that I want to write several tens of thousands of words on. In later posts, if I ever come down to it. Is anyone else here anymore? Is it good if I'm the only one, writing to no one?
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