Rock & Roll bookclub is meeting on Saturday to discuss Franny & Zooey (which I haven’t finished rereading). Of course since we’re such engaged and avid bookclubbers, Wolfdogg and I were discussing possible nominations for the June book.
I offered up Brady Udall’s The Lonely Polygamist, and then this happened:
Wolfdogg: i know one i want to read. . . but you would hate it. it’s nonfiction.
Me: what is it?
Me: are you kidding me?
Wolfdogg: i’ve heard it’s really good
Me: 450 fucking pages about the Amazon and explorers? I’d rather DIE.
Wolfdogg: maybe i wont bring it up.
Me: you can bring it up, but i will snort in derision.
See people, I’m not just abrasive on the Internet. I’m abrasive with the people I know and love and have to face in a few days. If you hear a loud howl of protest erupt from the St. Paul area of Minnesota Saturday evening, it’s because Rock & Roll Bookclub hates me and wants me to suffer.