Hmmm

Earlier today I found myself in a conversation with a couple of my friends. One considers this whole blog thing rather self-indulgent. Another says it provides the needed discipline to write. And you know what? They're both right.

This little address gives me a place to go at night and talk. I can weave my little stories. I can talk and drink too much. Or drink and talk too much. To no one specific. About nothing in particular.

It's a bar with typewriters. And you bring your own booze.

If I Were a Reader

I am a writer. The thing is, I'm not a big reader. I should be. I want to be. As a writer, you'd think I would be. But I'm just not. I can only assume I'd be a better writer if I read more. And I want to be the best writer I can be. But no matter how hard I try, I just can't read on any regular basis.

Maybe I'm easily distracted. Maybe I lack discipline. Maybe it's because I'm just lazy. Or it might be that I just get tired of stopping after every page or two and wondering what the hell I just read.

I guess it stands to reason that someone who has difficulty reading in the first place wouldn't necessarily enjoy reading everything twice. Whatever the reason, I don't do a whole lot of it and I always find myself wishing I would read more.

When I have made the effort, however, I've usually been greatly rewarded. Here are some of my more successful and enjoyable efforts:

Letters To a Young Poet
The Catcher in the Rye
Still LIfe with Woodpecker
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Skinny Legs and All
Tuesdays With Morrie
Lolita


Admittedly, it's not the most obscure collection of literature. But, highly recommended nonetheless. Check out any or all of them if you're so inclined. It's been a while, so I can't imagine the ability to have an intelligent conversation on more than a few of them. I'm just saying, you know, if you're bored and want a good read.