So, today was a Monday in the worst ways. Work was fair-to-sucky. The rain is coming down harder and longer than before (which sucks b/c my raincoat only covers my upper half - my legs always get wet on the scooter) and it just feels gloomy. Basically, nothing interesting happened today at all, leaving me precious little to write about.
Instead, I’ll tell you more about yesterday.
Near the train station, we found a bookstore that had a decent selection of English-language literature (by which I mean they had about 12 or so titles). I bought a couple books (yay!) just because I could.
The first one I picked up was Singularity Sky, by Charles Stross. I hadn’t been particularly yearning to read this particular book, but I remembered reading Stross’s name on John Scalzi’s blog, and I figured it couldn’t be too terrible. I haven’t unwrapped it yet (almost all the English-language books come wrapped up in cellophane, making it even more difficult to know if you’ll like a book), as I’m working on another book that Lindsay (my sister, for the unaware) sent for my birthday.
The other book I got was Vanity Fair, by William Makepeace Thackeray. Chief among it’s virtues was the low, low price of $110NT (~$3.50 US), and that it was unwrapped, revealing the beautifully tiny lines of text crammed onto the pages. I might go blind reading it, but it’ll at least last longer than a breath mint! Oh, and guess that fact that it’s a classic that I’ve never read helped some, too. I mean, the fact that it’s a classic doesn’t mean it’ll be good, but it might make me sound smarter the next time I’m around some lit nerds who think my love for adolescent lit means I’m not a real English major (never mind the fact that usually, these guys are losers) (also, nevermind the fact that I don’t really run in the same circles as these guys since I’m not in college) (whatever, I just like to be able to spout arcane facts and make really lame, overly obscure references) (sheesh, my brain is going - I just said to Seth “What’s that word that describes when I make a refernce that you won’t get unless you’ve read the same 27 books I’ve read?” “Obscure?” he says. “Yup. Thanks”) (okay, this is now the 5th parenthetical aside in a row; it’s probably time to stop).