Man, I even forget what I’ve read these past months since my last blog entry. It must be the election season that made me lethargic seeing the fucking political rigodon of the ruling class all over again. I tried remembering the books and it was a mesh-up of different genres that all the more meshed up my messed up mind. Someone gave me two books and it put a smile on my face seeing Pablo Neruda’s works Full Woman, Flesh Apple, Hot Moon . It sounded sexy and I find the book sexy. I took comfort in a poem under XVII and I am meaning to write a longer thought train on it. Paolo Coelho’s By the River Piedra I Wept was magical Coelho again. It has all the ingredients of a love story with that magical realism touch that made me conjure my long lost desire to visit Spain, if it is indeed in Spain that the story unfolded. And I think it is actually a happy ending with the lead characters getting together without the magic, and the mystery. They just loved each other and love conquers all, or is it?I tried reading M is for Magic by Neil Gaiman but did not finish it. It was this time that my reading interest waned for some unknown reason. I returned it to the library unfinished. But I bought A Good Year by Peter Mayle and was it a film that they made into a book or the other way around? I’ve watched the movie before reading the book and it described pretty well the provencal life in France. I want to live in a farm surrounded by grapes and interesting people. The book is better as I can still smell the fine wine.
Then I got hold of American Gods by Neil Gaiman again and it brought back my interest in his works, and reading. It made me dream of gods, and the crass materialism that rules the world. He is a good writer and he has long hair.
