Finished all of The Ice Storm. A great work--better than the movie in many ways. It's really wild how much of this book lives inside of the heads of the characters--pages and pages without any dialogue at all, yet it feels as if someone's talking at every given moment. Maybe because the author is pretty much the narrator and the narrator is always talking. Talking, talking.

If anyone can get their hands on a paperback copy, it might have the nifty essay that Rick Moody wrote about his experiences watching his book become a movie. I thought that maybe he would only have nice things to say. No, not in the slightest. He's mean and defensive and all around self-aggrandizing. It's a really great essay. I'm sure it's a very accurate portrait of how it feels for a writer's book to be eaten by Hollywood. I really recommend reading it even if you don't read the novel. I don't think Barnes and Noble will mind you taking a few moments in the pitifully stocked fiction department.

I also got my hands on David Sedaris's Me Talk Pretty One Day. I've been laughing my ass off (and marvalling at his very clean prose-y style). His essays are full of life and sarcasm--a superior combination--and seem to embody this "everyman" aspect even though I'm sure every man (or woman) is not as successful (read "well off"), dividing their time between New York City and France while being an openly gay (yet never really "fabulous!") essay writer for the macho-cigar-smokin' trio of Esquire, GQ, and the much-less macho, but still quite smoky New Yorker. Witty and quick reads--good stuff. Oh yeah, and the guy gets to work for NPR. Not fair.

So, as you can see, nothing has been happening in my life. I kind of like it. I gotta go to bed, though. I'm helping Megan's mom buy computer stuff tomorrow.