Frank Sinatra is awesome, because my phone knows to capitalize his name. Also, every time I hear New York, New York I totally want to hop a train there, and I don’t even like New York all that much. Its the magic of Sinatra.
Unfortunately Sinatra’s magic does not extend to giving me a will to move. I have zero energy whatsoever, and there’s nothing in his catalog that would fix that. Of course, some people get their kicks stomping on a dream. And though that song, That’s Life, tells me to pick myself up and get back in the race, I seriously lack energy. My legs seem chronically asleep. My mind is barely more awake.
I think the next book I read has to be really smart. The last three books I’ve read have been written by Jen Lancaster (very funny, but not the heaviest reading), Chelsea Handler (that’s pretty self-explanatory), and Tucker Max. Yeah, I need to read something deep, or something. I’m think the Picture of Dorian Gray, it was on my list even before I saw the Colin Firth movie, and it can be interesting to see how different the book is.
My arm hurts, from cat scratches. And…my legs don’t feel right. Probably from the always poor decision to actually use my laptop, on my lap. I was going to buy one of those brookstone laptop things, but it’s like $40. Not sure it’s worth it.
I am so stopped up.