I Guess I Should Have Forgotten About

He Loved Nirvana, But At His Age They Were Kind Of A Guilty Pleasure. All That Rage And Pain And Self-hatred! Will Got A Bit...fed Up Sometimes, But He Couldn't Pretend It Was Anything Stronger Than That. So Now He Used Loud Angry Rock Music As A Replacement For Real Feelings, Rather Than As An Expression Of Them, And He Didn't Even Mind Very Much. What Good Were Real Feelings Anyway?

So This Is Supposed To Be About The How, And When, And Why, And What Of Reading -- About The Way That, When Reading Is Going Well, One Book Leads To Another And To Another, A Paper Trail Of Theme And Meaning; And How, When It's Going Badly, When Books Don't Stick Or Take, When Your Mood And The Mood Of The Book Are Fighting Like Cats, You'd Rather Do Anything But Attempt The Next Paragraph, Or Reread The Last One For The Tenth Time.

I'm Coming To London Next Week, By The Way, In Unhappy Circumstances. Are We Getting On Fine As We Are? Or Would You Like A Drink?

The Natural State Of The Football Fan Is Bitter Disappointment, No Matter What The Score.

That Was His Mother. When She Wasn't Crying Over The Breakfast Cereal, She Was Laughing About Killing Herself.