Random

One of my resolutions this year is to make time to read at least one book a month. So far I am one month behind. I am fifteen pages into This Thing Don’t Lead to Heaven by Harry Crews, Copyright 1970. It is a beautifully tattered first edition hardback. I have no less than one hundred books awaiting their turns, impatient and brooding.

I have had a subscription to Playboy since I was fourteen years old. The first thing I do is see who the interview is; the second, see who wrote that month’s fiction; the third, read the Playboy Advisor.

Those weren’t always the first, second, and third things I’d do.

Robert Earl Keen’s Mariano is playing on my stereo.

I’m too vain to get braces and too vain not to.

The coolest thing I did last year was climb the Sydney Harbour Bridge.

It bothers me that so many clichés are accurate. For instance, there really aren’t enough hours in the day.

Gringo Honeymoon is playing now.

Huckleberry Finn is probably the best American novel ever written, but my favorite is The Sun Also Rises, hands down. Best English novel? Great Expectations.

I went to Fenway Park last summer. I nearly forgot. Sorry Sydney, we have a tie.

I’m ready for spring.