Hello.
How long has it been since I wrote something here? ...OH MY GOD, THE 5TH OF LAST MONTH!? wow, when Elest makes a resolution she really sticks to it eh? ..bullshit.
(look we've even started swearing here. Tauwba)

So how has Boris been since then?
Boris has been very well, thank you. He's never been better. He's been drinking more, dreaming less and falling on his face less, but drinking more...and smoking some...And sitting on the wall of The Bottle at the crossroads, holding his pint up at the cars that drive by. Every day. toasting life away.
So he's been well.

Working at Borders doesn't put one off books. Though it's very capable of putting one off bookshops. But one may grow imune to it...who knows. Time will tell. Because time knows. Time knows all, the blasted miserly thief. Actually it doesn't...it just pretends to. It's just a useless, fat, miserly thief who knows nothing, but pretends...and gets away with it.
In any case, there are few things about bookshops that may piss one off. Such a thing may be rude customers, but they may do so less so than shelving men's magazinese with gawking perverts standing about, and also coming across certain books like 'The Almond' by a certain Arab bitch (don't 'tauwba' me! She had it coming) who's written a piece trash about the sexual awakening of a repressed Muslim girl. All very erotic...and you just know the West is gonna love that. Oh yeah, we can see them wringing their hands with glee now, coz they'd already bought into the ideaology since Jacobean England started organising the world it had discoverred (I would quote out of Fletcher's Island Princess if I had an excellent memory, but I don't. You know that purrrrr-fectly well, so don't be stupid (she quotes from The Last Unicorn instead.))

In any case, if there had to be a reading list...just innit...of current reads...a reading list of no particular relevance or connection to any thing, time or person...just innit...a just-innit reading list of GOOD books, it would start thus:

Rememberring God -Charles le Gai Eaton
Wild Sheep Chanse -Haruki Murakami

...and end how, I know not yet.