Oy read Dickens!
Wednesday, July 11, 2007, 10:18 PM

Does anyone really care what I'm reading?

I used to snicker when I saw sidebar photos of book titles leading to Amazon or Barnes & Noble pages. Ew-ee, ew-ah-ah, yaay you, I thought. You're reading something called An Abundance of Katherines; and Quickies: The Handbook of Brief Sex Therapy and The Bell Jar. You must be learned. Learneded learned.

It seemed so pretentious, as if emblazoning the latest Harry Potter book on your blog or profile page was a statement about how open-minded and currently hip you are, yet if you dare listed More Oral Sadism And The Vegetarian Personality, you'd damn near proclaim yourself the sexually-repressed Neanderthal everyone in the family suspected you to be. God forbid you select a romance novel, not when Thong on Fire: An Urban Erotic Tale hints at sexual disatisfaction. And let's not overlook how Mississippi Sissy might show an uncomfortably irresolute prevarication, oh my.

But then I realized how revealing those wee slips of Amazonian advertisements are because I came across this one page...a profile of a reader/writer/dreamer who laid my snotty, half-baked idea under a 100-watt Wolff tanning bed bulb by simply asking me the right question at the right time: Why does it scare you?

(My idea, by the way, got sunburned, was diagnosed as a Dermatofibrosarcoma protuberan, and is now a biohazard spec floating in space, oh yeah.)

So I've recently read Adversary (a story called Stiff Shorts, and yes, it's about what you're thinking), Stephen King, Michael Critchton and Susan Elizabeth Phillips. Does this mean I'm consumed by blood, gore and sex, or just ecclectically interested? It's interesting for me to think about.

The whole frigging point.

~*~*~*~

I swear to God, someone's smoking weed in the building....
2 Did the Unhingey Jiggy Engage in Unhingenosity
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .