For a Rainy Day

I love the rain, though it always keeps me inside- lazing around, watching movies, and drinking tea. Ah, if only it could rain every day.

I've become alarmed at the rate at which my novel reading has slowed. The last book I read was "Fast Food Nation," and while it was well worth my time and energy (utterly eye-opening and repulsive might describe it better), it didn't lend much to my desire for ficticious escapism.

Why do I read less? Is it because I'm too busy? Lazy? Have my interests shifted beyond books? Will the lure of the glossy mag keep me skimming, rather than diving into the written word forever?

I don't know, man. But frankly, it stinks. I vow to start a novel tonight. Damn whatever's on Bravo.

Ode to the Paperback: A Few of Sarah's Former Faves

1. "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" by Hunter S. Thompson

My dad's a huge fan. Once I was old enough to realize he has excellent taste, I borrowed his worn, tattered copy of Fear&Loathing for a weekend and laughed my ass off. I've tried to convert many people I know to the HST faith, mostly unsuccessfully. Easy read, but takes a certain humor to appreciate. Their loss!

2. "Me Talk Pretty One Day" by David Sedaris

Very self-depricating. Very clever. Very funny. Long live this book.

3. "She's Come Undone" by Wally Lamb

This was a violently moving story. I can't tell you how much. Probably more geared for girls than boys, but surprise me.

4. "The Picture of Dorian Gray" by Oscar Wilde

Poor, pretty Dorian. Actually, I thought this was a very scary book. I had to stop reading it at night and avoid looking at anything hanging on my wall. Creepy and fun.

5. "The Alchemist" by Paulo Coelho

This story was read to me over the course of a few lazy nights on Hayes Street. Such a warm memory. If you cherish the voice of your loved one, have them read you this book. I promise you'll both enjoy it.

This is a good start, though there are so many more books I've loved before. However, my story is about to take an ironic twist. Through the course of this blog entry, I've decided my former pledge to begin a new novel tonight must certainly be shelved to allow ample time to bake oatmeal cookies instead. It just seems like the right thing to do.

Time to preheat. And don't look at me like that, I'll read tomorrow.

I Require Efficiency!

Moving sucks. I know you know this, but I want to just state it once more for the record. I feel like I've been moving for a month, and I pretty much have. Heather and I have made our place a really cozy haven, but we still need dining room chairs. And a towel rack. And a shelf in the kitchen. And lots of plants. And more Christmas lights. And bathmats. And damn it if the sink isn't leaking again! And why are our landlord's 50 buckets of paint still sitting in the backyard? It can be an overwhelming experience.

Having said that, I love my new room, and roommate. I'm especially digging my new neighborhood (once a hippie haven to far-out folks like my dad, before he was my dad). Found the local health food store to be totally up to par and only blocks away. I'm feeling warm vibes all around, and I know now this was a good move. Now if my upstairs neighbor would just take off those stillettos before trampling around on the hardwood floor so I can get some mother$%^&@*! sleep.....zen, Sarah, zen.....

Oh, also for the record... my latest experience with Comcast cable installers has been nothing but pain and suffering. The first guy reeked of weed and couldn't figure out how to hook up my cable, after arriving one hour later than the cut-off time for my four-hour window. I'm not saying the weed was to blame, but he did just have that one task, after all. The second guy (the "supervisor") was an hour late for his prompt appointment the next morning and managed to get the cable working fairly soon. But then he proceeded to answer a phone call that involved a lot of cussing- he was shouting obscenities, actually- in the middle of my bedroom as I stood there in my bathrobe, needing some personal space and feeling just slightly put out. Just thought I'd share that little gem with you.

I'm glad the Playboy post got such a healthy debate going. More of that, please. I'm always listening.

They tell me it's time for a voice coach. I'm totally excited. It's such a bizarre job requirement that I can't help but be stoked to soon tell folks my pipes have been classically trained, dahling. Lord knows my voice could use a little expert advice anyway. The karaoke bars know the awful truth...

Watched the film "The Bachelor" last night on TV. Skip it. Why do they even make movies like that? Dumb premise, dumb flick. Also caught "When Harry Met Sally" on one of the rerun champ stations. That movie sure looks dated these days, but it's still a keeper. Billy Crystal rules.

It's time to go home and start measuring and cutting sheets of sticky-backed contact paper to fit inside small junk drawers so that little, unnecessary things can be stuffed inside them and I can feel better about never throwing anything away because the contact paper makes all the junk look more organized.

Yes, women are insane. I'm afraid of us too.

Have fun storming the castle!