So, in my never-ending quest to read all of the classic literature that I was steered away from by God-fearing hands in my teen years—I might have read them sooner, say, in my late twenties, but I had other things to catch up on as well, such as the fine art of being able to down 72 fluid ounces of Jim Beam in the course of an afternoon and still be able to stand (mostly) and remember all of the lyrics (mostly) when we hit the stage at 9:00—I can now add, “the Catcher in the Rye.”
That kills me.
If I wasn’t so much like Holden, I probably would have hated the book. Hell, most of the reason I had put off reading it was that I hated the artwork on the jacket cover. I hate book covers from the fifties and early sixties. They're never serious. But what did I buy? A mint, Little, Brown and Co. 1951 edition. Sha-wing! See what I mean.
Anyway… Was that a book review? I hope so. Next up is Kipling’s “Kim”. I’m five pages in. I freakin’ love Kipling. This guy is like heroine to me right now.
Speaking of heroine… Did you know that kids are shooting up some sort of cancer medicine these days—a pill? What the F? There are way too many questions here for me to ask. So I won’t.
Speaking of getting high… I was in and out of the spray booth all day today. My head hurts.
Anybody getting anything good for Christmas?
Gwen, I do hope you are taking (and posting) lots of pictures. I can’t even imagine what kind of beautiful things you must plan. I want to see!