on reading ernest

i like to remember him as he was that night at the dome.  they say the seeds of what we will do are in all of us, but it always seemed to me that in those who make jokes in life the seeds are covered with better soil and with a higher grade of manure

feeling bookish

well, having survived yet another birthday [with the kind help of my closest love ones] and contemplating life on earth after the WFC [is this just another football club?], i have turned my attention to the literature enthusiast in me [y'know 365 pages, no plot] so i can have a few good reads on the upcoming [and soon to be posted ad nauseam] "cross country with two year old" adventure of a lifetime!

is this lot a good choice?

Burroughs/Kerouac + the hippos were boiled in their tanks[read most of burroughs, none of kerouac, so this should be an adventure]

Roth the dying animal [read it, and now a movie called elegy]

McCarthy no country for old men [seen the movie 2 or 3 times now, read the road, should do this]

Gaiman smoke & mirrors [short stories, so good for the road. loved american gods]

i think so, and i will welcome your comment.

and, above, a  few little grabs from the ether suggesting, perhaps, that there are too many books, and too little time!