Possible Side Effects and Bjork

I am forced to read now. I haven't read a real novel since I got stuck in the quicksand that is Song of Susanna on my way to finishing The Dark Tower. That was a good three years ago. But now I have to read everyday all because of the way lunches seem to work in the Curve office. Everyone sits at their desks to eat for maybe 15 minutes, while doing work, then immediately getting back to the work they never left in the first place. And while they insist that I take long lunches, I can't do so at my desk since it raises the question of whether or not I am actually working and am able to answer phones and not be on Facebook.

Instead, I am exiled to the lobby where there is nothing to do but read. Lately, it has been Augusten Burroughs' Possible Side Effects, a collection of essays with pithy inner monologue and jam-packed gayness. I love it. He writes like I used to. About NOTHING. He is what the famous Seinfeld pitch was all about. A book about nothing.

Oh and the Bjork thing. My Zune now has seven whole gigs of music on it, a drop in the bucket from the possible 30 gigs I could cram into it. I always listen on random yet almost everyday, Pagan Poetry haunts me. And at times where I at first feel good. Oh look at that sunshine. And in SF of all places. I love him. I love him. Sweet. I remembered to take my parking pass off my windshield. No mocking stub fluttering today. He makes me want to hurt myself. And goddamnit, every time I hear the song I go from zero to blubbering in 10 seconds flat. Normally, I desensitize to songs after a while but this one has some strange immunity.