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Dull like flat paint.   —   Books

I've been pretty uninspired blog-wise lately, my mind has been on so many other things, and I had a gross cold for a while, that sucked. I'm still not in the blog-zone so forgive me for this lame post, I just thought I'd better write something before you set my house on fire in protest because I know frequent updates are just that important.

I've been reading Black House by Stephen King and Peter Straub, it's the follow-up novel to Talisman which I read a few months ago. The Talisman was a fantastic novel rich with imagery, adventure, and heartache. It was an emotionally weighty novel and told the story of a young boy on a dangerous quest. It was beautifully written and the storytelling was terrific, a book that demands to be read, beckoning you in every moment that it is not. Black House is equally enthralling but in a very different way, it focuses on many characters instead of only one which makes the story seem less urgent, less intimate. But it's still a great book and an interesting follow-up, though definitely not a sequel. I've been getting more and more into King lately, especially after I read his book called, On Writing. A fantastic book for any King fan, especially for fans who write or aspire to write. For my birthday Adam purchased a Stephen King book lot from ebay, a box of 20 something King books. My goal is for a complete King collection but considering how prolific the man is I still have 20+ more to purchase. After reading The Talisman and Black House, that deal heavily with "the territories", I find myself eager to read his Dark Towers series, which in all honesty I've never had any real interest in before. It's going to take me years to read the entire works of Stephen King. I can't wait.

Adam and I are off to Portland, Oregon at the end of this week for a quick visit in which we will be sizing up the city and the local comic book industry. Yes, I know it rains a lot there, hopefully it won't be an issue but I guess we'll find out. I'm keeping my fingers and toes crossed. The more time I spend in New York the more I completely forget that there is a world outside of this city. It's enough to make a person crazy and quite frankly I've gotten so accustomed to this lifestyle I really don't know what it's like to not spend over a thousand dollars a month in rent, to have access to grass without a subway trip, to not smell urine on my way to work, and to meet really friendly people in the grocery store. New York is like a bad boyfriend. You don't realize how poorly you're being treated by him until you finally break up and meet someone who treats you really nice. It's time to fucking break the bastard's heart.

Posted 5.22.2006 4:40:24 PM





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