Mon Oct 8th, 2007 at 06:25:53 PM EST
I really am working on a diary of substance, now that Russia's back in the news, pulling stunts. But in the mean time, I thought I'd throw this up, figuratively and literally. I'm always running out of things to read. You'd think working amidst something like 8 million books, this couldn't happen. But just as with knowledge, the more you have, the more you are aware of what you do not have...
I'm hesitant to buy books. I worked too long in bookstores and libraries to imagine paying full price for a book anything less than an insult. Conversely, spending too much money on books has never seemed sinful to me. If I end up a hobo, I'll be a well read one. (I also extend this logic to chocolate and pastries. If I am to starve to death, I want to go out with a bang.)
Here's what I am reading and planning on reading in the near future:
The End of Nature. By Bill McKibben.
I did not know of Bill McKibben until Jerome began promoting Step It Up. Then I began noticing his writings on places like AlterNet. And then I found this book at the public library. (I was going to get John Green's, but it's a kids book. This is John Green. Give until it hurts, people! I mean, Americans!)
Anyway. Bill McKibben writes like this:
"The buzzing, blooming, mysterious, cruel, lovely globe of mountain, sea, city, forest, of fish and wolf and bug and man; of carbon and hydrogen and nitrogen - it has come unbalanced in our short moment on it. It's mostly us now.
And since it's mostly us, we better finally think about who the hell we are."
Preach it brother!
Also, I am reading:
The Sexual Life of Catherine M. By Catherine Millet.
You know, I had high hopes for this book. I really did. Like, I'd actually learn something or come away with some sense of something unique and profound. Some envelope pushed. Some deep philosophical understanding of something or other. Or at least some insight into how one can be both a notorious nymphomaniac and well-respected art critic. (Only in France, I swear...) Alas, disappointment. It's just a lot of retelling. Who knew that after 15 pages even detailed accounts of orgies could get boring? Huh.
That doesn't mean I didn't keep reading, mind you...
Also, I am reading:
Some magazines. fashion, decor, Mother Jones...
I am awaiting:
Learning to Drive. By Katha Pollitt.
I like Pollitt, who writes for the Nation, and I probably would have gotten around to reading this eventually, but the reviews! The reviews! Jesus Christ!
I am looking for:
Our Word is Our Weapon. By Subcomandante Marcos.
Badass Zapatista Manifesto.
Ok. Your turn.