Bookery
I don't know why I bother trying to read anymore. I can get about three or four pages into any real, grown-up book (i.e., Harry Potter doesn't count) in the evening before Mr. Sandman comes to bring me a dream. Only he uses the whole bag full of sand and swings it directly into the back of my skull. I look forward to taking some vacation time next month so maybe I can actually finish a book. (I secretly enjoy traveling by plane, despite the uncomfortable seating, expense, and other hassles, because I actually finish books on airplanes when I have an excuse to read during the day. I could probably crank through a lot more if there were any way I could get away with traveling by train reliably. Sorry, no buses.)
Speaking of books, it looks like the Wheel of Time series really never will end now. Robert Jordan is dead. Some would probably say I never gave him a fair shake, since I lost interest about 150 pages into the first Wheel of Time book and never picked up anything else of his. Nonetheless, I know there are a lot of people who dug him and that series (sorry,
lumpyhead), and he was a one-man bookselling force, the likes of which the literary world seldom sees. (I know he wrote some Conan stories, so maybe I'll check those out.) Anyway, may he rest in peace.
Speaking of books, it looks like the Wheel of Time series really never will end now. Robert Jordan is dead. Some would probably say I never gave him a fair shake, since I lost interest about 150 pages into the first Wheel of Time book and never picked up anything else of his. Nonetheless, I know there are a lot of people who dug him and that series (sorry,
lumpyhead), and he was a one-man bookselling force, the likes of which the literary world seldom sees. (I know he wrote some Conan stories, so maybe I'll check those out.) Anyway, may he rest in peace.