I just read Dead Until Dark, the first book in the Sookie Stackhouse series. Enjoyed it quite a lot. It was pretty well written, but had the melodrama and sex of prototypical summer reads, and I enjoy that now and again (the melodrama, I mean. I enjoy things being well-written always). Did it in a little over a day- it was a light read, and I was motivated.

I read the first half of Dave Egger’s collection of short stories. I read it in one sitting, but I haven’t finished it because there was something about the honest and ugly fumbling truths of the stories that unsettled me. I guess unsettling is the point, but I’m not really in the right mindset for that and it’s a lot to take all at once.

I’ve (theoretically) wanted to read a lot lately, but I haven’t started anything that has really grabbed me (until the Sookie book). Life has been heavy enough- I’ve wanted my reading to be pretty light (for a while now). I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it, but when I think about it I feel a little like I’m… I want to saying missing out, but that’s not quite it. Like I’m not appreciating the things I should be.

I started watching True Blood (prior to reading the book). I’ve watched the third and fourth season. It got me thinking about the fact that I’m more comfortable seeing people being killed on television than I am seeing people having sex. Says a lot about my relationship to sex, and violence, and the media.
Also, Alexander Skarsgard is a really great actor… and nice to look at.

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