For a Rainy Day

I love the rain, though it always keeps me inside- lazing around, watching movies, and drinking tea. Ah, if only it could rain every day.

I've become alarmed at the rate at which my novel reading has slowed. The last book I read was "Fast Food Nation," and while it was well worth my time and energy (utterly eye-opening and repulsive might describe it better), it didn't lend much to my desire for ficticious escapism.

Why do I read less? Is it because I'm too busy? Lazy? Have my interests shifted beyond books? Will the lure of the glossy mag keep me skimming, rather than diving into the written word forever?

I don't know, man. But frankly, it stinks. I vow to start a novel tonight. Damn whatever's on Bravo.

Ode to the Paperback: A Few of Sarah's Former Faves

1. "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" by Hunter S. Thompson

My dad's a huge fan. Once I was old enough to realize he has excellent taste, I borrowed his worn, tattered copy of Fear&Loathing for a weekend and laughed my ass off. I've tried to convert many people I know to the HST faith, mostly unsuccessfully. Easy read, but takes a certain humor to appreciate. Their loss!

2. "Me Talk Pretty One Day" by David Sedaris

Very self-depricating. Very clever. Very funny. Long live this book.

3. "She's Come Undone" by Wally Lamb

This was a violently moving story. I can't tell you how much. Probably more geared for girls than boys, but surprise me.

4. "The Picture of Dorian Gray" by Oscar Wilde

Poor, pretty Dorian. Actually, I thought this was a very scary book. I had to stop reading it at night and avoid looking at anything hanging on my wall. Creepy and fun.

5. "The Alchemist" by Paulo Coelho

This story was read to me over the course of a few lazy nights on Hayes Street. Such a warm memory. If you cherish the voice of your loved one, have them read you this book. I promise you'll both enjoy it.

This is a good start, though there are so many more books I've loved before. However, my story is about to take an ironic twist. Through the course of this blog entry, I've decided my former pledge to begin a new novel tonight must certainly be shelved to allow ample time to bake oatmeal cookies instead. It just seems like the right thing to do.

Time to preheat. And don't look at me like that, I'll read tomorrow.