are these beauties...
One is a charming book of fairy tales updated for today's L.A.
Bukowski had his L.A.
And Francesca Lia Block has hers.
His might have been funnier.
But hers is prettier.
The other book is a compilation of hundreds of fascinating lists.
I can endorse both of these books as A-1 bathtub or bed reading.
Because, like, why would you read anywhere else?
Oh, you have a life? Well, excuse me.
Okay, then read them on the bus, in your cubicle or as you are shot out of a cannon in front of tens of thousands of onlookers.
Read them through a glory hole at a reptilian roadstop. I don't give a fuck.
I want to share some of those lists with you soon.
I found many of them rather fascinating.
The Book of Lists (and its "sequels") was one of my favorite books when I was a kid.
I was gonna say "when I was a child."
But I was never a child.
I was a kid.
A baby goat.
I didn't really know any children either.
Just other kids.