Yikes

Well, I keep meaning to be better at this blogging thing and it just keeps not happening. Too much on my plate, I suppose, coupled with a terrible lack of Internet at home recently.
Today is one of those irrational days. You know what I'm talking about, ladies; we all have them. I am always amazed at how intense my rage is on days like today. And how short-lived it is, too. Like a firefly. On. Off. That quick.
The other night my partner-in-crime and I were hanging out on his stoop with a neighbor of his, who was tipsy, and she started performing her poetry for us. Some of her rhythms and her breakdowns really reminded me of my ex-girlfriend's work. Strange. I did one piece, at my partner-in-crime's insistence. It's been a long time since I was poetry-minded. Mostly because I've been so far into fiction writing these last few years. It was interesting to go back and read some of my work. I still think that some of it was pretty good. But a lot of it was junk. That's the way it is with any art though, right?
I've read a plethora of books since I last wrote about reading. Let's see . . .
A Nameless Witch, by A. Lee Martinez. This fantasy novel was quite entertaining. Witty, funny, and glib. I mean, how many books have you read involving slightly undead witches and their demon duck familiars? That's what I thought. This book made me giggle out loud a number of times, but it's not a keeper. Not for anything lacking, it's just not the type of book that I'll reread. Definitely recommended though.
Something Borrowed by Emily Giffin. This is a perfect beach read, and that's exactly where I read a decent portion of it! I'm not generally a fan of chick lit, but this one is good. Balanced, easy-to-empathize-with characters. The plot is not totally unrealistic. I could see it happening. And I've met people similar to these characters. I like how shades-of-gray it presented things, because the world really isn't black or white at all. Even if you're not into chick lit, you should give this one a shot. And if you are into chick lit, why haven't you read it already?
One Train Later by Andy Summers. This is the memoir of the guitarist for The Police, and it's just lovely. Andy has a really great voice, and a good perspective. This memoir is a good mix of crazy party gigs with drugs and wild girls, and serious passages about Zen, about the music and his influences and style, about the music being more important than anything else. I really, really enjoyed this. And it made me seriously miss being in a rock band. For anybody who has even a remote interest in rock history, or for anybody who just wants to read what it's like to be in a superstar band, check this one out.
The Man Who Turned Into Himself by David Ambrose. This one was interesting. It's serious fiction based on the "many worlds" theory of quantum physics. I had a hard time ever really connecting with the main character, I think because he had a hard time connecting with himself. But it was really interesting to read about this character grappling with these extreme theories. This is not a keeper for me; I don't think I care to go down that particular rabbit hole again. But I'm glad I read it once, even though by the end I was a little exasperated with how far the premise was taken.
So I'm at 29 books so far for this year. Not bad. Maybe I really will get to 60, we'll see! I rejected several other books in the course of reading the ones I just discussed; I am getting more particular. Which is good, given how many books I've amassed!
That might be about all I've got for today. And I've got work to finish anyway. So, I'm off. I'll try to get back here soon.