These are the things that I pondered as I lay abed this morning, screwing up the courage to put my feet on the cold floor.
a) Why do I continue to read everything Douglas Coupland publishes?
I just finished ‘Player One’… I’m not going to critique. The reality of the book is secondary. What is blocking my vision and causing my teeth to grind is WHY I read it. Over the past, oh, eight years I’ve rushed to consume every published novel DC has tossed at me. It’s like the Christmases of my childhood…starts off with that feeling of excitement and promise and by the end it’s replaced with drunken tears and confusion. I know that it’s going to happen, but I can’t stop myself. Is there an intervention group that can ween me off this guy’s lame character development and poor plot execution?
b) Location, location, location…
I’m having a hard time processing the fact I moved to a place that hosts snowstorms and -12 temps before November. Voluntarily.
One of my favourite people in the universe is in Capitol City for a few weeks on business – and Saturday I’m motoring down to exclaim over her wonder and revel in her grooviness. You only wish you could be me right now.
But mostly what was going on inside my head looked like this: