I've been in a quiet, bleak sort of mood lately. Hankering for some appropriate reading. My Bukowski books are gone, but I have Paul Auster's City of Glass on ebook. Still haven't read Kerouac's On the Road. Maybe it's time.

Haven't been getting enough sleep. Started reading Rice Boy today, and wow it's long. Earlier in the week I've read all the way through the archives of Pictures for Sad Children and Hyperbole and a Half. Hm, good unintended contrast there.

Stupid toilet keeps clogging up, if you so much as look at it funny.

Got some time off work. Surfing around, reading.