So, without further ado, here are my book recommendations for those who don’t necessarily love to read. Sure, they’re not exactly dense reads, but I don’t think a book’s value should be determined by how difficult it is to get through. They’re exciting, they’re funny, and they usually involve heroin addiction. The kind of books I like to read are the ones that snap, crackle, and pop off the page. Does that make me any less of a writer though? Does it give me less credibility? Like, I’m sorry I haven’t read Anna Karenina yet but HAVE YOU? Who the hell has really met that chick anyway? She’s so long! One day maybe we can sit and chill and get to know each other but for right now, she scares the hell out of me. To be frank, reading these 1,000 page novels often bores the hell out of me. Shocker, right? The guy who wrote “What It Feels Like To Get Effed In The A” doesn’t sit around reading the classics all day. My taste in books is more contemporary, less intellectual, more personal and journalistic. I’m just not clutching my worn copy of Wuthering Heights and reading it by candlelight. I’m never not in the middle of reading something. In the past two weeks, I’ve read four books and approximately 20 magazines cover to cover. Open a damn book!” And then he sauntered off into the crowd, his kimono blowing in the wind.Įven though this dude was a stranger, he really hurt my feelings. I told him my stock answer “Lorrie Moore and Joan Didion” but he wasn’t satisfied with that.ĭisgusted, he hissed at me, “For a writer, you sure don’t read. He just nodded politely and started to grill me on my favorite authors. This guy didn’t find my answer amusing though. I hate it when people ask me “WHAT DO YOU WRITE?” because no matter what I say, I’m bound to look like an asshole. I write about gay stuff and having feelings and sometimes The Olsen Twins.” Admittedly, I was being a little glib with my answer but whatever. He asks me what kind of writing I do and I respond, “I don’t know. I tell him that I’m a writer and his face lights up. After doing this for about 10 minutes, this psycho old guy (who I’m 90% sure was wearing a kimono) finally comes up to me and releases me from my misery. Scanning the room full of people, I realized I knew no one there so I did what every bored and anxious person does when they having nothing to do at a party: I pretended to text people on my phone. A few minutes into the party, my boss left me alone to go do bossy things and I found myself fidgeting around nervously with my drink. I forget what it was actually for but there were a ton of “creative types” skulking about so my guess is that it was probably for the opening of some gay film series. A few years ago I went to this party in the Financial District with my boss.
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