Another week, another Monday. Tearing myself away from my two-day womb of sleeping in, mid-afternoon trips to Dunkin' Donuts for a blueberry iced coffee (I can't drink it during the week. It's my "serenity now" beverage), raiding my massive DVD collection and watching a full animation block on Fox on Sunday night followed by Adult Swim on Cartoon Network. Little do you know it, but I secretly judge how cool you are based on whether or not you like Robot Chicken. Really I do.
But with the workweek and daily train commute comes an opportunity to indulge in some great literature. My new thing? Discovering an author and going through their catalog book by book. My latest is Kurt Vonnegut.
I know, it's sad that I've never read him before, but he's easily one of my favorites at the moment. I started with Slaughterhouse-Five and I'm almost finished with Breakfast of Champions. I just love his literary voice, particularly in Champions. He's so self-aware as a novelist, and his writing never seems to get stale. He's great to wake up to during the morning commute, and is the perfect remedy when I wake up to find my iPod dead. So it goes.