I finished reading Michael Tolliver Lives this afternoon. The last 20 pages had me so choked up and weepy (and it's been a while since a book has done that to me). I had a bloody good sob in the bathroom after putting the book down. I know the TV versions of the Tales Of The City books were just ok but throughout this book I kept picturing how great some of the scenes would be if they decide to film this final book. *sends Madrigal sized vibes into the ether* Imagine finishing a book because you NEED to know what happens to the characters and not because "I've started it so I will finish it".


Apparently in the 1970's there were men who would buy the latest Alan Parsons Project LP and drop an uber-expensive diamond stylus onto the vinyl and let the Marantz or Harmon Kardon amplifier s.e.p.a.r.a.t.e. each and every sound before sending it sailing through the Senheiser headphones and into those hairy ears. Today the equivalent is the new Underworld album which demands and deserves to be enjoyed through your best digital player and noise-reduction headphones. It's a return to form as far as I'm concerned and I've been just sitting and listening to it this evening. Just sitting and listening. I usually listen to music while doing something else but not this album. Beautiful. Other good and recent albums for cleaning/cooking/reading/walking the dog are The Wombats and The Rumble Strips.