Becoming Stay Puft

As another evening draws in here at Cheap Rental Towers, my thoughts turn once again to the subject of loneliness - a young friend of mine has just had a cup of tea in the shop (being as we are a warm and sedate mix of literary retail and a shoulder to cry on) decrying MEN and all we stand for as a gender.

What is it about us that causes us to want what we don't have, reject what we do, and spend the rest of our time regretting it.

I know of three happily married couples. They are warm, loving, knowing, accepting, and most of all they are content.

This lack of contentment must derive from something, some kind of insecurity endemic in men between 15 and 30.

I explained to my friend that, unless she was very very very lucky, with a good fortune that bordered on the magical, she was doomed.

I think I am a nihilist. Bah.

***

This sobriety thing is playing havoc with my weight. Since coming off the booze I have eaten nothing but pasta, cake and doughnuts, drunk nothing but coffee and found myself dozing off every half hour. I swear I've put on a stone in a week, and am beginning to resemble Mr Stay Puft, the marshmallow man from the film Ghostbusters. Something has to give, and I am hoping it's not gonna be my waistband... That said, I am enjoying waking without nausea and the shakes, so the alcohol is still out.

***

Book recommend of the week has to be Cormac McCarthy's 'No Country For Old Men'. Stunningly violent, beautifully terse, this is a caper novel that would make Richard Stark blush, pack up his things and fuck off home. Deserving of a place on the bedside table of any self respecting fan of crime fiction. Jim and Paul HD, I'm thinking here primarily of you two.