Too damn thorough.

It takes me forever to choose books. I don't want to just pick up any book. If I want to waste my time reading, I'll do that on the internet, thanks.) Probably not reading enough book blogs, or talking to enough literary types. (Although I do feel guilty about endlessly borrowing good books, thanks D and L.)

It took me about an hour tonight to find something I wanted to read on Amazon, and I ended up with A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, Dance Dance Dance (Murakami's become crack for me) and a CD (The Cat Empire one). My brain is mush. I kept looking at reviews, feeling no interest, and clicking another poorly written recommendations list.

While I was reading Norwegian Wood, I was pretty paranoid. My grandmother asked about it, and I generalized as much as I could. Plenty of stuff in there not worth sharing with my grandmother. But a good book. I really need to get away from Murakami and his emptiness, but I just keep coming back. I'm reading The Elephant Vanishes right now. So far, seems lighter. The story I'm reading starts with kangaroos. Hopefully that's a good sign.

This is not good blog material, but I'd just like to prove that I'm still alive.