I read a book yesterday. It felt like clicking back into the summer setting. Turning pages, hopping from perch to perch as I followed the sun's arc over my house. I spent a few hours with people, but there was always the slow murmur behind my brain that asked 'what happens next, how does it end, what will it say,' encouraging me to leave my friends.
Neuromancer, by William Gibson. Today I rode my bike to Powell's to pick up the sequel. Lolita has become too creepy. I can no longer have any feeling toward Humbert Humbert but revulsion. No feelings towards Lolita but pity. Not because of the situation, but because of how they are acting. The situation has been the same for a while, but the people are becoming more pathetic. I'm sure I'll get through it eventually. But for now, Count Zero.
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