I need to take a break from The Yiddish Policeman's Union by Michael Chabon. I love his work... but it's so rich. I'm afraid I'm missing the beauty if I read it too fast. and it wasn't letting me escape. For some reason, I painfully relate too well to a Jewish-alcoholic-divorcee-homicide detective in Alaska... It just wasn't where I wanted to be right now.
The Bad Girl is about love, or lust, and takes me to hot places I want to go. That sounded dirtier than it should have. I meant Peru.
I'm so fucking cranky right now, but writing this out makes me feel better.
A woman, who was a major influence on my life, used to use other people's sorrows to either justify her sadness or depression... or gain attention. Either way, it was an awful habit and infuriated and embarrassed me. There is another version of this though. someone who is cold and horrible enough to use other people's sorrows as an excuse for inexcusable behaviour.
