holla if you wanna rack up a whole gang of snaps
i had a fucked up dream last night about my fears for the USMLE Step 1 exam, this big ass test I take in May that determines (largely) what specialty I can do as a physician. In my dream, the small groups we were in for the test got disorganized and we had to find new groups, and I kept trying to find a new room but it needed a piano for the recital portion. Totally ridiculous and funny and terrifying.
I have been reading more good books. The Discomfort Zone by Jonathan Franzen is really great---he is funny and insightful and honest and I get the feeling he would be good to talk to. Fiction is all over the place, and you cannot really tell if the writer would be a weird recluse (Salinger) a misanthropic drunk (Bukowski) or whatever else, but his memoirs and essays are just awesome. I suggest How to Be Alone and this one whole heartedly.
Also read Memories of my Melancholy Whores by G.G. Marquez. Good, not as great as his other stuff, but he uses language well, and paints vivid, ethereal pictures. It's funny, when I was younger I yearned for mystery and mythos and supernatural stuff, and now I like it for different reasons, i.e. escape from my more rational view of the world, as opposed to which direction I prefer to channel my supernatural beliefs.
Also, I am really enjoying The People of Paper, it's similar in style (i.e. magical realism) but much more modern, which is intriguing. One of the reasons I like Murakami is his bending of reality in the modern world, versus GGQ's bending of reality in 19th and 18th century Mexico and South America.
Also reading Wizard of the Crow, which is fucking awesome.
If you are on netflix, add me as a friend. it's my gmail address which is m p oconnell at gee mail dot com. Forealz. Then you can see what movies I've been seeing lately....
Keep it real yalz, I gotta go to sleep so I can get up in time to help my pops make the downstairs bathroom well again. My dream of having water only in the pipes and drains is finally true---water runs not in the floors and walls. Perfect.
Adios.
I have been reading more good books. The Discomfort Zone by Jonathan Franzen is really great---he is funny and insightful and honest and I get the feeling he would be good to talk to. Fiction is all over the place, and you cannot really tell if the writer would be a weird recluse (Salinger) a misanthropic drunk (Bukowski) or whatever else, but his memoirs and essays are just awesome. I suggest How to Be Alone and this one whole heartedly.
Also read Memories of my Melancholy Whores by G.G. Marquez. Good, not as great as his other stuff, but he uses language well, and paints vivid, ethereal pictures. It's funny, when I was younger I yearned for mystery and mythos and supernatural stuff, and now I like it for different reasons, i.e. escape from my more rational view of the world, as opposed to which direction I prefer to channel my supernatural beliefs.
Also, I am really enjoying The People of Paper, it's similar in style (i.e. magical realism) but much more modern, which is intriguing. One of the reasons I like Murakami is his bending of reality in the modern world, versus GGQ's bending of reality in 19th and 18th century Mexico and South America.
Also reading Wizard of the Crow, which is fucking awesome.
If you are on netflix, add me as a friend. it's my gmail address which is m p oconnell at gee mail dot com. Forealz. Then you can see what movies I've been seeing lately....
Keep it real yalz, I gotta go to sleep so I can get up in time to help my pops make the downstairs bathroom well again. My dream of having water only in the pipes and drains is finally true---water runs not in the floors and walls. Perfect.
Adios.