Pretty uneventful, but interesting to say the least. He's an aspiring literary critic (and later becomes reputable for it) that moves amongst Chilean's elite poets and authors through Farewell (the best lit critic out there), and even crosses paths with greats like Neruda and attends his funeral. He is also a priest, but just because of the events that played out as a child (not wholeheartedly). This wasn't a one night event as I previously thought, but a stream of thoughts, ideas, and mild ramblings that are exchanged amongst him and Chile's high society. I found myself puzzled.. wasn't I just reading about him wandering through the streets at night and now he's giving three different lessons to these officianados on Marx and Engels? It was still interesting enough to follow through with it and the rants about literature and Chile and all the abouts that keep the culture prosperous despite tough times, but I do miss the mild suspense I get from reading his novels.

Summer Vacation

I've been jumping to and from different things... mostly without any intentions of finishing. I feel like I'm searching for some kind of justification to turn away from the ways I have been raised... like do I really need all these material things and this job to feel secure? satisfied? Honestly, I am broke as hell, but I am having the time of my life. Okay... well the whiskey helps.

Aside from picking at different things... Walden, Will of Doubt, The Wisdom of Insecurity, etc. for the reasons I mentioned above... I finally got around to reading her short stories, which I felt were perfect and really fucking enjoyable.



I love her cynicism about women and how the can really act or fall into this overemotional, dependent, ditsy, jealous role just because of their men. Yes, thank god there was someone in the '50's that spoke up and revealed the ugly truth about marriage and pitiful relationships. AND its hilarious! well smart, witty, creative, and pokes fun at the lifestyle of high class New York. Pretty stinkin good.

"I have no money, no wife, no auto. I have no dog. I have neither a radio set or a rubber plant - I have no troubles".



No, it's not the chubby dude from Shallow Hal. An autobiography and bestseller from the '20s by an outlaw with a conscious. After a lifetime of burglaries, socializing with deviants, and stealing to get by - then years served with some escapes from prisons throughout North America, and a decade long 'hop' addiction, this guy has been through it all. It sounds grim, but its the complete opposite, it's more of a story of trying to live outside of the confines of society, but then getting caught and beaten down by the failing legal system - which back then consisted of torture by lashes, straight jackets, and the like. Black, even though labeled a convict, is intelligent, and lives by keen rational and integrity - yea, he even made sure there were no kids in the houses he stole from. After years of stealing and being acquitted by a judge that finally saw the potential in him, he kicked his habit and worked as a librarian for a paper in San Francisco. I'm fascinated with his sincerity and loyalty that he always kept and expressed to those that he felt showed him good throughout his lifetime. He also read the encyclopedia 3x through, plus every book he could get his hands on (with the exception of the bible - ha!) It came to the point that I began to root for him through his bag snatching and jewel heists, so that he could get a decent room and something to eat. He really does break down the discrepancies of the legal system - the pointless brutality of convicts where he advocates for progress. It's all local too.

happy mother's day mom

You created a monster. I mean a nice, presentable young woman.

a misaligned universe

my planets are out of orbit.. something is throwing my days completely off.

I received my first failing grade on an assignment. F as in F*****tard.
I missed a shift that I was supposed to cover for someone yesterday.
I am supposed to be at a bridal shower, but I got lost on my bike in Walnut Creek. Literally the two different directions each had a non- discoverable street.
BUT there are some play things - free mumlers show, free yeasayer show, and luda on repeat keeps me feeling ok. I hate when there are a couple days, where everything is leaving me saying WHAT THE F^%*!!!! and causes me to drink massive amounts of tequilla and forget, then question my purpose in life. Should I really be in library school?




So... I have no idea why I read through this thing. It started off so promising, and ended up more as a history/anthro lesson... and sorry to spoil, but the lost city of Z is still a theory. The writer, who went to search for this city, found what anyone else would expect to find in the Amazon - heat, tribesmen, and trees. Okay it wasn't that bad. I really did like the stories of the disappearing explorers, cannibals, flesh consuming diseases, and the thrill every one of the explorers had of discovering the unknown. P.H. Fawcett is the main guy here, not the writer at all (even though it starts off as his planned exploration)... I am seriously shaking my head. Here is Fawcett looking like a San Franciscan.