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Currently reading

The Sandman, Vol. 1: Preludes and Nocturnes
Neil Gaiman, Malcolm Jones III, Karen Berger, Sam Kieth, Todd Klein, Mike Dringenberg
Bad Soldier
Chris Ryan
The View from the Cheap Seats: Selected Nonfiction
Neil Gaiman
The Pier Falls: And Other Stories
Mark Haddon
Faith Versus Fact: Why Science and Religion Are Incompatible
Jerry A. Coyne
Telegraph Avenue: A Novel
Michael Chabon
London Fields
Martin Amis
Post Office - Charles Bukowski

I like Charles Bukowski for his rudeness and deep honesty. 

 

I wrote crap for my own pressure. It is like dancing. Not many people could be a dancer, but we could all dance badly for our pleasure. 

 

I wrote things as a form of humor, or as an form of expression that it hard for me to find another channel to express. But it is never for profit or getting attention from others. Too many books should never made into publication as it is worth less than the papers it was pressed on. 

 

Save the tree.

 

But writing is something else. Somehow it is a fun to let thoughts jumped out of you, in a moment that you captured these thoughts and put them into words, with no particular audience in mind. Just words, thoughts that go unnoticed unless they were caught and nailed down by ink. 

 

So many people should be readers, and not writers. Oh well. It is an experiment. And someone who shouldn't got published, got rich from doing so. Crap books are everywhere. Maybe it is good as evidence of a stupid generation of humans for archaeologists of the future, or cultural studies or history.

 

Maybe.