24-hour diner of doom
I just blazed through (less than 24 hours) a book I liked quite a bit and thus shall recommend here: About the Author. It didn't change my life or anything, but it was a real page-turner, and darkly funny, and it has tons of plot, which is rare these days in literary fiction (not that I REQUIRE lots o' plot, but it's a refreshing change of pace), and it kind of reminded me of The Secret History, which was another well-constructed if unchallenging plot-o-rama. If you pick it up (About the Author, that is), ignore the blurb by Stephen King. I'm not sure what HarperCollins was thinking with that one.
Although I like to think I'm not this petty, I will admit to being a bit of a blurb snob. I once rejected a book I had already read, liked, and wanted to buy because of the blurb by USA Today (ack! ptooey!) on its FRONT COVER (good god!), opting instead to wait for a later paperback edition on which no such sin had been committed. I'm too cynical about the way the literature business works, however, to buy or read anything BECAUSE of the blurb: I only reject, reject, reject. Typical me.
This day so far has been semi-painful, in ways that are difficult to qualify. While I was making tea and eating my bagel, half-awake at 6 am, there was just so much bad news on NPR that I really wanted to go back to bed. Not that going back to bed would have done me much good, as I haven't been sleeping that well lately. Who knows what the cause is, but it's beginning to take its toll. I feel like a deep sea creature, all spine and no eyelids.
Yesterday I had another Great Chicago Transit Adventure: train, bus, and walking because I'm too impatient to wait for the bus, to the bank to close out my safe deposit box. I hadn't been there to put anything in or take anything out in close to two years, and since we moved I no longer even live near that bank, and the only things in there were negatives from my travel photos and a zip disk with LT's dissertation. I'm not sure why I even got a safe deposit box in the first place. Obstensibly it was for irreplaceable things such as the above in case our house burned down, but I really could just bring those things to the office and lock them up there. I think I was just attracted to the whole cloak-and-dagger aspect of the safe deposit box system—it's kind of cool and archaic and the little rooms where you secretly look at your stuff are enticing, and I always wanted to write up one of those “In the event of my death” letters (like in novels) and stick it in there but never got around to it.
And now for a list. Nothing like a good, hot, steaming list in the morning.
BREAKFASTS OF CHAMPIONS
1. Wheaties (per the advertising industry)
2. Peanut butter toast, banana, skim milk
3. Kurt Vonnegut novel
4. Plain bagel w/cream cheese
5. Cigarette, diet pepsi
6. Two eggs over easy, rye toast, hash browns, coffee
7. Chorizo burrito and 3 Advil
8. Leftover cheescake and 1/2 bottle of warm, slightly flat champagne
9. Bourbon and Funyuns
—mimi smartypants