Lists

I have a Blackberry Pearl and I know, they're so 2008, but I love it because I have tiny hands and am able to navigate all the keys with just one of them. In my phone, I keep various lists that are beneficial to my daily existence. These include:

• Books- those I should read, stumbled upon and am interested in, or are recommended to me.
• Gifts- because I habitually forget my great gift ideas unless I write them down.
• Man List - which was made at a bar and includes all my favorite men. It's topped by none other than Jack White. (More on this in another entry.)
• Music- comprised of bands I hear and like and will never remember the names of.
• Thirsty- basically a wine list. Further proof that I'm actually 50 years-old... excellent!

Then I have a smattering of lists which consist of fragmented story ideas, paintings I like, and whatever else I find important enough to passively remember (ie: Thoth is the Egyptian god of wisdom and writing. He's pictured below.)

Because I share a sleeping schedule with the very elderly, I was awake at 5:15 AM and decided I would later take a trip to the Brookline Booksmith for something new to read. I arrived at the bookstore shortly after opening and realized I'd forgotten my phone at home and I didn't remember off the top of my head my most anticipated titles.

To take a tangential detour, let me say that I get an obscene number of book recommendations from clients and friends because, having a degree in Writing, Literature and Publishing, people think I'll be interested in all the crap they read. There are very few people whose taste in literature I actually trust, which is attributed more to my bizarre interests than my literary-snobbery (though I am quite particular about what is categorized as literature, as many of my former professors can attest to- for I frequently disputed the validity of certain texts being studied in class). To purge my Books list of recommendations, I'll spend hours online looking up books and deciding if I'd actually be interested in them. Usually, I'm not, and only the best stay on the list.

So, I was at the Booksmith without my list and with one of those headaches that comes from not having had enough sleep (honestly, it wasn't a hangover!) and I was aimlessly wandering the isles feeling overwhelmed with book lust to the point of ambivalence when suddenly I remembered that my co-worker, Maura (she does awesome hair, FYI), is constantly telling me to read William S. Burroughs. She's told me many times, including Friday night, "Kate, he was all about bowties and scotch and typewriters and shit. You're going to totally love him."

I trust her with my hair and decided, perhaps wrongly, to trust her book recommendation and bought Naked Lunch. I'm now twenty pages in and feel in need of a Junkie Dictionary to get me through this. Someone (other than Maura), please tell me this gets better.

I'm just thankful the Olympics are on to distract me. BIATHLON! I love the sound of skies on crispy snow!