"you can't outthink the thinking machine"

after a particularly emotional day, i took a walk that accidentally left me walking into Books of Wonder. immediately my migraine seemed to lift slightly, simply because i was in the presence of the books that shaped my life as a child and adolescent. i ended up acquiring an Encyclopedia Brown book, which i devoured within 20 minutes of getting home, and ordered the entire Anastasia Krupnick series, along with another Louis Lowry book that i often still refer to in my head (The Giver).

i got home, and after i had solved every mystery in "Encyclopedia Brown: Boy Detective," i took a much-needed nap. by 9pm, however, my headache was back in full-force. even Anastasia can't save me from scheduling and family issues.

ANYWAY, at that point i decided that since book therapy had helped me so incredibly this afternoon, i needed to do it again.
enter barnes and noble, and Paul Auster.
i can confidently say that there is no living author that means more to me at this very moment than this man. he is my later-year Judy Blume, my Louis Lowry of 2006, my Joyce Carol Oates of today. if i saw him on the street (he lives in Brooklyn), it would be the most embarrassing moment of my life, because i know i would act like a Hanson Fan circa 1996.

so of course, because i can't do anything without it becoming an obsession, i went ahead and wiped out the 66th street's B&N's entire Paul Auster section. because that's how i roll (and by that i mean i need to drown in someone else's life right now).

so now, i'm 20 pages into "The Book of Illusions," my migraine is calm and stable, and i've got some chicken in the oven and some f-ing reading to do. my phone is off, my ipod is out of battery, and i have succesfully alienated myself from everyone and everything. it's just me and you, Paul. i love you.