My pockets hang out like two surrender flags

Today's playlist:

1. Marnie Stern

2. Beach House

3. Shearwater

4. Mark Lanegan Band

5 MGMT

I am looking forward to tomorrow's run listening to Marni. I'm betting it won't be a sluggish one.If you've heard her before, you catch my drift.

I had a busy, fulfilling day at work yesterday. I was focused and took pleasure in the challenges I overcame with a little bit of thought. Today, almost every facet of my day was only slightly less frustrating than being worked over by a horse fly when you're trying to read or finding a camera small enough to fit in the peep hole in the wall across from Rich's bed, which, let me tell you, has not been as easy as you might think.
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Started meditating again after a lengthy hiatus. I always come back to it and sometimes I wish I was more consistent with it, but taking breaks from the practice has felt right. My first session back felt like a rite of passage. It was pretty heavy there for a while, but I got through it.
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Finished reading Suttree yesterday.They say it's McCarthy's most humorous novel, and I suppose it is, taken in the context of his body of work, but, hell, if you hold Notes From Underground up to his body of work, that will seem humorous, too. No, McCarthy will never be confused with the Davids Barry or Sedaris.

You know who's not very funny? Sinbad. But that's only my opinion, and if yours is contrary, I'll be ok with it. Maybe it will provoke me into work-shopping the reasons why I don't care much for his comedic stylings. Who knows, I could come out the other end crowning him the King Of Comedy. The man whose skull the crown presently adorns is non other than Larry The Cable Guy, our nation's pride. He makes me want to be a better man.

I digress.

I liked much of the book, but also found myself wanting to be done with it about half way through. At times I felt like McCarthy, in an attempt to make some kind of point only authors with a deep sense of gravitas would appreciate, intentionally made sections of the book difficult and boring.

My new lunch break book is a re-read, a brave and sadly under-read (probably because of the shocking, but almost certainly true content) book: John DeCamp's The Franklin Cover Up. There is inconceivable evil, oft hidden, a fetid, thick ichor, that operates among us. And it's reach goes right to the top.
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How's this for my headstone: He Was all Killer And No Filler. I bet you like it so much, you're going to try to die before I do so you can steal it from me. Don't forget: I can do anything faster than you, and that includes dying. So don't get any big ideas.

Baby Boy Z loves him some Rachel Ray dog food. Tonight, Janelle and I watched him go through a few bowls of the stuff like it was raw hamburger (one of his faves). As happy as I am for him, I'm not exactly thrilled it was Rachel Ray who won over his taste buds. Gotta hand it to her, though: she's got a way with kibble.

And I've got a way with getting myself gone.