I’ve stayed up late tonite reading a book a friend gave me for my birthday. My general policy on fiction is that if I have anything going on in my life that needs attention, then I have to not read any new fiction. I get too easily cuaght up in it. Unlike the books of my teenage years which I have since read and re-read many times over, once I get into a new book I find it difficult to find a break in the narrative significantly big enough that I can put the book aside and think to myself "that’s all for tonite." So I’ve spent about the last 5 hours reading. Now I can’t sleep, and I have to get up for work in 5 hours.
The book, by the way, is "Dead Europe" by Christos Tsiolkis. Many thoughts and feeling rushing about me because of this book, not quite sure how to express them, not sure if I will.