I started Scar Tissue last weekend. After a few days of reading about the prodigious drug-taking behaviour of Mr A. Kiedis – first spliff at 12; cocaine at 14 (via a needle, no less!); heroin, ah, I lost track; alcohol was merely a minor interest – and we hadn’t even gotten to the music yet! – I was exhausted!
I only mention this because the thought struck me this morning that my self-imposed non-alcohol periods seem to coincide with reading or viewing which features the extremes in human behaviour and, specifically, the consumption of intoxicating substances.
And I’m feeling the weekend nudging me a little in the side. Time to remind myself: I’ll be good. I’ll be very, very, good. My hair is straight, not curly, therefore I don’t have a curl right in the middle of my forehead. Therefore, I think I’m safe. (Do these self-pep talks work, generally, I wonder…?)
Listening: Interlude With Ludes by Them Crooked Vultures
I’ve been in that state of mind this week wherein my preferred reading has been bright and shiny and mostly pictorial.
…What is it with people who don’t understand the concept of SMS? I mean, it’s not called Short Message Service for nothing. That means, if your text messages are longer than the length of the device’s screen, you’re not getting it. It also means your friends are not getting it, as in they’re not going to read your messages because their eyes have glazed over after the first two lines. I don’t want to scroll through an SMS more than once, much less twice. Really. Just send me an emoji. I did say I was feeling un-wordy this week, right?
I kinda lost a couple of days there. Totally unintended, of course, but I was gone, girl! I know I’m a bit late to the party, Gillian Flynn’s book Gone Girl has been out for some time. But I wasn’t doing much reading last year. Anyway.
If you want something easy to read, but at the same time hooks you in with its twists and turns, this is it. And talk about screwed up human beings. Fictional, of course, I know, but still–!
I finished it last night – well past my bedtime by the time I clicked the iPad shut – but I think the sleep deprivation was worth it.
If it hadn’t been for the pesky little thing of having to go to work, I would’ve gotten to the end sooner, I’m sure. (I was a little disappointed by the ending. Anyone else feel the same?)
Some evenings, all you want to do is get home and veg out with some reading and a cuppa.
I missed all of the 29C Indian summer day today.
What’s new? (Jilll Stark’s book is excellent, by the way; I can relate to almost everything I’ve read so far. And I’m 80% certain I’m going to extend the non-drinking for at least another three months.)
A friend called just as I was hitting the home-straight, with something I’d picked up from the supermarket for dinner. “Do you want to meet for dinner?” she asked.
Besides the fact that I was almost home (Umm, a bit of notice would’ve been helpful?), I was simply in a reading mood: Vanity Fair article via Flipboard on the iPad; the (sydney) magazine; Monocle Mediterraneo*; and (gasp!) a tree book (which shall remain unnamed because it’s shrink-recommended ‘homework’).
So, the answer was no.
* Speaking of which, it got to 32C in Sydney today. It’s only Spring! No, I’m not complaining. I love it!
So… confession time. On two counts.
First confession: since moving house in late-April, I’ve been struggling with reading. Now that I’m living within walking distance of the office, there’s no longer the opportunity to read on the bus. And then it took about six weeks to get the internet at home sorted – unbelievable, I know! – meaning that every time I turned on the iPad to read, I got that annoying message: “It has been x weeks since you’ve backed up this device. Please do the necessary blah blah blah. Otherwise your iPad will explode the next time you switch it on. Don’t say we didn’t warn you!” (OK, maybe not. But I think you get the gist.)
Seriously. It just turned me off the reading thing. Nor could I be bothered to go back to tree-books. About three weeks ago, I did pick up an old paperback, Brass by Helen Walsh, which I loved when I first read, and still love as I discovered this time around. But that was it. It’s quite incredible to think that I’ve hardly been reading for all this time.
Last weekend, I decided the only way to get back to it was to go for something easy, frivolous and outrageous. Guess which title I picked? (Does my facial expression give you any hints?)
Second confession: THIS…!! (Please don’t judge me.)
If you have read it, what did you think of it? Did you find it titillating, cringeworthy or funny? Or all three?