I'm a total whore. I realized out of the blue that my graphics over at Livejournal would magically come back if only I pressed that button that turned my account from "basic" to "plus." Not that I'm crazy about having a big add for custom glitter graphics over my Livejournal, but I'll put up with it if I get to keep my sex toy banner that I heart so much. As you can tell, I'm over the LJ tantrum of 2008.

I'm a bad bibliophile! I haven't read anything. Granted I have been writing a lot but still, I'm ashamed. Lucky for me fate gave me a kick in the arse by introducing me to a used bookstore just two minutes from work. I had no idea it was there, and I had my reservations when I went in. Some used bookstores are utter crap and only sell utter crap, but this place was a perfect little nook in the wall. I was in there 15 minutes and came out with a bagful, and he begged for trades. This has me squealing in delight, as it's so hard to get rid of used books, but also concerned. If he has to beg for books, does it mean my perfect little lunchtime escape might be doing bad business and I'll be left wandering around the liquidation store buying more useless crap I need? I already have enough coaxial cables!

I picked up Elizabeth Gaskell's North and South and I admit, it's entirely because I've been seeing pictures of the BBC treatment all over the place and apparently starring a very yummy man (who I just realized is in the Robin Hood TV series I rejected when I noticed one of the wenches was wearing eyeliner - must be strong! Yummy man!). I managed to get myself a copy of the film but I've been refusing to watch it until I read the book, but I haven't been to Amazon or Chapters since just after Christmas. I started the first few pages and I have to say I'm completely charmed. It has a bit of a Lucy Maud Montgomery feel to it and with summer coming that's the atmosphere I'm looking for.

Of course, Udolpho is still on the back burner. It's quite sad how quickly I lost interest, but how long can one stay interested in a traipse up the Alps and then down the Alps, and then up again. Good God. I'll get back to it, but for now I think I belong to Gaskell and Thomas Hardy, with a stop-over with Sophie Kinsella. I've also kept Brian Keene at bay. I keep opening the book I mentioned in my last post, but no matter what page I flip to someone has an erection. Good enough, but the fact that they seem to be hiding their erections behind books and such is a little disheartening.

I have a few things to say on the writing front but the wireless keyboard hasn't been working lately and I can't be bothered to crawl under the desk and start fiddling with wires, so perhaps next time.

Labels: north and south, prattle, reading, teh internets, writing