Started a new book last night, can’t remember where it was recommended but probably Chuck Klosterman. “Tenth of December” by George Saunders. Won a bunch of awards, including New York Times 10 Best Books of 2013, according to the cover.
It’s mediocre at best. A bunch of short stories about unpleasant people doing unpleasant things.
To accompany my reading I’m playing a new Pandora station I created, consisting of minimalist “shoegaze” ambient electronic music. This stuff has no ambition, no redeeming characteristics, no ah-ha moments. It’s eminently forgettable.
I’m retired and this is the Trump era. What the fuck do I care.
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