I’m generally not a big fan of novels about book clubs, for a couple of reasons: Things hardly ever explode, and, when they do, it tends to be meaningful. No steely-eyed bounty hunters navigating the wilds of a post-apocalyptic society. No fart jokes. However — I just finished The Jane Austen Book Club, by Karen [...]
So I’ve been blogging for over five years now, and I’m still not entirely sure why. Is this thing an extroverted version of the diary I never managed to keep? Is it an attempt to scratch the writing itch without doing any actual writing? A hopeful shout out into the void? A reason to spend [...]
Holy crap, this is about the most beautiful thing I’ve ever read. It’s from a post about Elizabeth Edwards: If I found out today that I had a year to live, and that meant I would change the way I spend my days, then I need to change the way I spend my days now. [...]
Some vile microscopic organism managed to penetrate my immunilogical fortress this week. I spent thursday flat on my back, staring at the ceiling, plumbing my vocabulary for the right words to describe the particular kind of awful that I was feeling. I couldn’t summon the will to log into work, or mess around on the [...]
Friday night at home, and I’m cleaning out my room. Normally, this would be an extremely dull and just slightly depressing endeavor, but it’s just been redeemed by a wonderful discovery, deep in the bowels of my closet: an ancient album cover that my brother and I put together a long, long time ago. Not [...]
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