There's a rumor circulating that I like to read. When I graduated in spring with my English degree, I took a deep breath and thought, "aaaah. now i get to read what i want to read from now on and forever." (just so you know, my inner monologues are exclusively lowercase)

The funny thing turns out to be, I can't. I've been trying to read for the last three weeks, and I've tried different authors, genres, themes, etc. Nonfiction, fiction, self-help, romance, contemporary lit, classic lit, erotica, sci-fi, teen lit...

Nothing's getting through. I can't seem to stick with anything. I think something's wrong with me. Admittedly, I'm still shaking off that depression from several weeks ago, and doing a fine job. But my attention span is shot to hell.

The whole point of this is, I have a stack of library books next to my bed and I wanted to tell all about them, because they're fine-looking books. Tempting enough for anyone, especially someone with my deranged range of interests.

So here are the books that I can't get through for a bowlful of noodles, and it's killing me:


Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay
Henry VIII: A King and His Court
The Thirteenth Tale
Emotional Intelligence
The Business of Fancydancing
Oleanna
The Vagina Monologues
Movement for Actors
The Big Fat Kill

These are the ones I can remember. My to-read shelf is full. Actually, I get a whole bunch of stuff because I never know what's going to get me. Plus, the library allows for three renewals per book, so I should be set for enough time. Wish me luck. And a new attention span.