Monday, July 06, 2009
Sunday was not nearly so fun, although it wasn't bad either, since it included more mosaic making and the reading of not one but two of those new fangled sort of mystery novels-avec-vampires and witches and the general paranormal, which seem to have become some kind of major mostly craptastic literary genre while I wasn't looking. Or, I guess, they were a literary genre: getting almost all of your books from either the Goodwill or Downtown Books & News means that you will always be at least 18 months behind the bookish trends. (18 months and possibly considerably more: enough time will never, ever pass for the Goodwill to be completely free of Jacqueline Susann and Gail Sheehy's Passages.) Anyway, there's probably something new out there by now, detectives with yeti companions and Martian enemies or crime fighting superpowered sensitive robots who are actually werewolves. It's hard to keep up. Ten years ago everyone had horrible recipes in their mystery novels; now it's steamy vampire sex and herbalism.
In other news, I can't think of a goddamn thing. I mean, I am so starved for news that I'm almost ready to blog about the incredibly exciting fact that I'm taking the car in for an oil change on Thursday. Thrill a minute around here and as always, having tried the crisis filled variety, I thank the universe devoutly for the boring life.