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Well, Bernie and I made it out to the Salt Lick with Jay, Icky and Emily, Punk and Christine and Malia. We ate way too much turkey and brisket and ribs and sausage and beans and potato salad and cobbler and pie and ice cream, as usual, and there was crippling afterwards. I think good food is wasted on Jay, though - he hardly ate anything, and then started raving about some pork and beans or something he had in New Mexico. He's so uninvited to Texas.

The night previous, we stopped in to wish our friend Kyra a happy birthday, seven months belated due to a little bit of surgery, which turned out fine, and she is glowing and perfect once again. Her new apartment has not one, but two porches for sitting and drinking and shooting the shit, so we sat, drank some, and she shit was shot. It was good to hang out with that gang again - a distinctly different flavor of vibe from the noisier kids from San Francisco. I need to make a point to get out that way more often, mix it up a bit.

Right, so, the reason I mention this is because my friend David Moses was talking about Motherless Brooklyn, which has been sitting unread on my shelf for about a year and a half now. So, came home after the Salt Lick today, did a little work, then pulled out the book, and ran down the first couple of pages to get a feel for it. Six hours later... between the meatgut and the fantastic writing, still not going anywhere. So yeah, good stuff. DMF, with the ruling. Bastard. Now I have to track down those other books from this guy that I've been putting off, and get down to it. It's really remarkable how little reading time I find, considering my, mmm, flexible schedule. Mmmm, lassitude.