Sunday, May 18, 2014

another false start. and name me a good book written by a journalist.

I thought and I thought. And then I did. And then I thought. And I just can't do it. I am thinking about this in terms of my future self. I know this is a train wreck waiting to happen, so I'm cool with it not happening. I'm a little sad only because I wish it wasn't a train wreck. But it is, so there's nothing I can do.  Go with God.

Other than that, just kind of recuperated this weekend b/c I had a serious lack of sleep. I need to go to the bank to deposit my state refund check. I hate that bank so much. The location is such crap, I don't know how a million fender-benders don't happen in its tiny tiny dangerous parking lot. Banks.

I just read a mostly crappy historical fiction novel about a bank robber who was born in 1901, and then the Leo version of The Great Gatsby was on, so I've had it with prohibition and the roaring 20s and depressions for a while. I really need to give up on books written by journalists. I never like their writing styles. They're so dry and factual. Ugh, this one annoyed me because the author tried to go back and forth through time every 2 pages and he'd put the present in italics. Bleh. Italics. Such crap. I wound up skipping the italics just so I could finish the book, and then at the end the present was suddenly not italics again but it was still really boring, so I just skimmed the main ideas. I really didn't care - not the mark of a good novel.

Okay, I also confess to feeling weird about the guy because he never even tried to kiss me. It was just awkward, and then I feel like different people want you to make a bunch of sounds, and that's just not going to happen if I'm wondering what's going all because I'm thinking too much. At least I didn't get axe-murdered. They would have blamed the victim for sure.

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