Note to Self:

The next time I read a book that touches me so much I cry at the end while my boyfriend looks on in astonishment - because really, is she crying over a book? - it's probably better that I don't actually meet the author.

Because, in the event that I ask a question that's met with first a smirk and then a non-answer, well, now, that's just going to ruin the book for me forever.

Only someone like me could get dissed at a booksigning, of all places.

****

In other news, Pitchfork was this past weekend. It was great time, but if I never see Yoko Ono perform live again, it will still be too soon. I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. For John, you know. But when my eardrums decided it might be a better idea to rupture than continue to listen to her screaming is about the time I hopped on the bike and left.



That is all.