I've been reading -- well, catching up on, really -- some fiction lately.  I'm about thirty pages into Cormac McCarthy's 'The Road'.  Jeez, what a freaking downer, eh?  The only things the man and his son have come across in this post-apocalyptic looapalooza are a couple of leathery corpses and a Coke machine.  This book is enough to make you want to slit your wrists.  I mean, hell: the sun don't shine, everything's covered in ash, it's raining, and from what I can see, no one's likely to get laid in the near future.  The near future.  Ha ha.

I also read some Nick Hornby.  Love this guy.  Check out 'Slam' and 'A Long Way Down'.  Oh yeah, and there's a book of short stories he edited... got the word 'Angel' in the title.  I really enjoyed Roddy Doyle's story.  It's about a guy and a dead rat.  There might be a theme to this post.

Oh, well. Later.