(no subject)

I'm having that don't want to leave the house because it's grey out but I really, really want to go do something. The ground is damp like it rained a little. Not nearly enough though. We need pouring rain.

I am so bored I caught myself thinking about going to the optometrist. Argh.

touch a star, down into the bookcase

My last several entries make it seem as if I spend a lot more time watching television than I really do. (Well, I do watch a lot of SVU but that's a different story.) I did watch an episode of Rollergirls today, mostly because I like seeing my city on the screen and I also wonder what the camera will linger on.

To the point though. I read, a lot. Right now I'm running way through the last few pages of The Neutronium Alchemist Part II and -freaking out- about the red cloud and the hellhawks and Al Capone and oh my god what is up with the Tythaca? I grew up on classic sci-fi, and this folks is damn good sci-fi. It has everything and it is epic. Start out with The Reality Dysfunction Part I and you will see what I mean.

I read a copy of Courtney Love The Real Story which I happened to get directly from Brite's eBay auctions. It was interesting, and odd. Not quite a standard bio, but interesting and very emphathetic with a difficult subject. It really made me want to replace my stolen copy of Live Through This.

Something is wrong in that Amazon doesn't list Two murders in my double life by Skvorecky, but they have so much else. It was his first novel written in English, and i have a Czech translation of it stashed away somewhere. But I read it again recently, because it's a fast read and something I like in the evenings before I settle down into darkness and blankets. Skvorecky makes me cry like no one else, because he catches things that are so beautiful, damned and strange. But if you've never read him, you could start with this excellent collection of stories When Eve Was Naked. Of course, my favorite that I read at least once a year is The Miracle Game. Though my copy is a UK print with a much better cover.

I'll not ever forget my mother's paperback copy of Time Enough for Love or The Cat who walks through walls. I read a lot of Heinlein when I was a kid, and I have to think that had a definite impact. How could it not? The first one I ever read on my own was Stanger in a Strange Land. That's one I have to go back to every few years and some new piece of it opens up for me. My first impression of it as a nine year old was very odd. My parents had a dozen collections of the Hugo winning short stories from the late seventies and early eighties. Those were some of my first stories, and I loved them intensely.

I'm going to finish up the Peter Hamilton series first. Part of me really wants to pick up the latest Robert Jordan because I hear there are finally some answers but I may be too irritable to get back into that right now. Besides I haven't read the first ten books in years! I'm not ready for any sort of commitment in my life, much less something so weighty as ten very large books to read. Hah! I'll probably reread some 19th century Russian literature because that's my comfort zone like potatos and fried fish. Maybe I'll read some more memoirs through I'll try to stick to the ones written by real people. (and that's all I have to say about the weirdness of Frey and Leroy lately.) Joan Didon's The Year of Magical Thinking intrigues me.