Ah, books. If I’m not buying them on impulse, they’re being given by friends. In any case, they keep on piling up. I’m not complaining, though. When it comes to books, I’m an unapologetic hoarder.
- The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen. His name keeps popping up on the Tumblr blogs I regularly visit, so I figure he must be something. Also: A friend highly recommends him. I trust her because she has nice legs. Yeah.
- Native Tongue by Carl Hiaasen. I’ve read two Hiaasen books and LOL’d at both of them. I want a third serving… and perhaps more. Why not?
- Spanking the Donkey: Dispatches from the Dumb Season by Matt Taibbi. One of the reasons why I read Rolling Stone is Matt Taibbi. His polemical articles on politics and media are somewhat reminiscent of the late Hunter S. Thompson’s ruthless gonzo attacks. Authors with balls, I’ll devour ’em like pies (um, that sounds gay, right? But whatever, man). Devil’s Horn to Boojie Basilio for giving me his extra copy of this.
- “A Dance With Dragons” by George R.R. Martin. I’m a big fan of the A Song of Ice and Fire book series. ‘Nuff said.
One day I’ll be old and decrepit and useless, but not bored. What did the ants teach the grasshopper again?