But, I haven't. Doing all that will only result in my regret a few weeks down the track. But it's a strong urge, I tell you. To help stave it off, I've been reading, mostly short fiction. While I was away I picked up one of those beautiful American Library editions of Shirely Jackson's work and I've been reading short stories from there. And, since I've been home, I've been flipping through an old copy of Howard Waldrop's Night of the Cooters, for reasons I can't truly explain. Beloved by many, Waldrop can be a bit hit and miss based on my mood, to be honest. Some days, some of his prose just gives me the shits--other days I reckon it's funny and deft, the complete opposite of what I think on the other days. I think I have a bit more appreciation for his work after being in America, this time round. Or maybe i'm just in a mood to read Shirley Jackson and Howard Waldrop. It seems to be kind of helping.
But, y'know, you tune into the world. A massacre in Norway. The slow whittling of a carbon tax into nothing. A bad human trade deal by the Australian government. The media scandal over the News of the World, where the media conveniently walks around saying how bad those people are and no, no, of course no one else would do it. No. And there's famine in Somalia.