Saturday, November 3, 2012

The Problem With Fiction

See this is why my reading new fiction is dangerous. I almost never have this problem with non fic no matter how fascinating it is. But when it comes to good fiction... I lack... Middle gears. Even if I do manage I tell myself to go to bed, and put the book down, my brain still won't let me sleep. I Know. What happens NEXT. I'm like one of those animals with lock jaw that latches on to something and can't let go for love or money.

If I didn't have plans I can't easily weasel out of tomorrow I'd just say screw it and stay up all night but I need sleep and so I'm layin here, futilely trying to sleep and failing miserably.

And this is why I reread old books. They're safer that way. I can actually put them down (usually, provided its not the good part) when I need to and get my brain back from them. I don't latch on like a limpet. I can moderate. But tonight it was this or cake and I had 52.8 running through my head so I chose this.

Maybe telling you about it will sufficiently exorcise my demons and I will sleep. Also I'm typing this via the blogger mobile app on my phone an not proof reading so we apologize in advance.

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