So sorry to leave you all without my crazy prose stylings during this week of gonzo mourning, but I've been deep inside the book I'm working on, and there have been other deadlines, and plus I really haven't had anything to say. I sure miss all those letters from Led Zeppelin fans.

I'm no Bookslut, who appears to be reading a book a day, but after all, that's her job. Still, I have completed book number 9 for the year. It was actually a book that a publisher sent me to blurb: Belly, by Lisa Selin Davis, a gritty and darkly comic novel about a guy getting out of prison who comes home to find that the seedy world he once inhabited has been gentrified beyond his recognition. This is Davis' first book, and I admire how un-autobiographical it is; the themes, if not the prose, reminded me a lot of William Kennedy. Definitely recommended.

Also recommended is this work by a painter to whom I am not related at all. This is a purely unbiased endorsement of one of America's most talented artists. Now I must go prepare for this weekend's 35th birthday party. It will be cold and rainy, and the party is outdoors, but we are currently devising creative ways for people to keep warm.

Posted by at 9:18 AM | Permalink