friday

again and I am off kilter. I blame tiredness and a lack of a window seat on the bus this morning which always makes me cranky. (What's the point of a great view of the park or lake when you're staring at someone's butt?) In that case, I might as well take the train. Views are important, especially when I spend my days on the windowless first floor of the library. This afternoon, I've decided are too many poetry books piled on my desk at work, and I will never have time to read them all and am beginning to slowly cull--tossing everything that doesn't grab me in the first two poems. I'm feeling rather sharp and merciless. The problem stems from what I've been hoarding as I'm unsurpressing new books coming over from cataloguing. An interesting cover will tempt me every time, but sometimes the poems are endlessly dissappointing. I am also looking for a good semi-trashy-but-still-somewhat-literary novel to read now since I managed to finish my copy of Arcadia Falls in under 24 hours. I started it last Friday night on the way home from the Open Studio and then spent the day huddled in bed with it all of Saturday and didn't feel guilty about it one bit...