I don’t eat chocolate in the morning very often. I think that needs to change.
There are far too many really, really bad songs out there to which I know the lyrics. Examples: Gregg Allman’s I’m No Angel, Right Here Waiting by Richard Marx, and She’s Like the Wind, Patrick Swayze’s hit from the Dirty Dancing soundtrack. I have never listened to any of these songs on purpose, but if they come on the radio I can confidently sing along without pause. And these three tracks? Just a toe in the ocean of drivel that occupies my brainscape.
I really, really don’t care who Tiger Woods sleeps with and I can’t believe anyone else does, either. Well, unless one is sleeping with him. Then maybe I can understand the interest.
I recently read Tracy Morgan’s I Am the New Black. I was disappointed, because it’s just kind of boring. I think Tracy comes across much better in person than on the page. And I’m okay with that.
Speaking of books, I just started Wolf Hall, which won the Man Booker prize this year. It’s the story of Henry VIII and all of his nonsense as told through the eyes of Thomas Cromwell. It is fascinating and witty and so engaging. I’ve read a zillion books on this topic but Cromwell’s (fictional) perspective is really fresh and I can’t wait to dive into my Kindle every night.
I’m meeting up with a friend this weekend to discuss an idea we’ve been percolating (shhh). It’s scary-exciting to think of what the future might have in store for us.