Well, I haven't read any further. I've done work (good.) I've posted to Facebook (meh.) I've blathered about politics (pointless.) Mostly I've engaged in rancorous debate - no, that's not right. "Debate" is too formal a word. Mostly, I've argued like fighting pit-bulls with people on baseball sites who think steroids should disqualify players from the Hall of Fame (utterly, moronically pointless.)
I'll try to read more over the weekend, though I am currently devoting most of my free time to final mix of (yet) another CD. Which seems a reasonable anecdote to tell. At last year's Snake Whacking Day (another story altogether) I presented Paul with a special mix that I put together for his 40th birthday. Every year Paul mixes everyone a birthday CD, and way back in 1992 it was Paul who sort of set me off on this weird little "document your life by embedding secret, mostly impossible to discern messages to yourself into mix tapes of other people's art" project. My first mix tape made for public consumption - that is to say "not for a girl I was infatuated with" - was titled "I Am Paul's Dog." (That's a reference to a comic book from the early 90s, if you care.)
Anywho, I made Paul a 40th birthday mix and I gave it to him at Snake Whacking Day. At which point Squid, who I have also known nigh unto forever, asked "where's my birthday mix?" Now who feels like an ass? No, more than usual. So I have set about over the last month to mix Squid a CD, because he has a point. I'm currently running final track listings for that CD. (Yeah, see. I spend HOURS on track orders, blending the run time from one song to the next, maintaining some undercurrent or theme. I'm a complete OCD fucktard about that sort of thing.) When it's done, I'll write that up separately.
But that's why I haven't read any further in Juilet, Naked. I can't read about music geeks and their amazingly fucked up emotional and psychological compulsions because of my own music geekery and psychological compulsions. Yeah. I'm like that sometimes.