If something's not right, it's wrong

I finished In Cold Blood last night. As has become my accustomed style, it takes me 3 weeks to read the first 50 pages, and then I fly through the rest in about 24 hours. I read 1/3 of the book on Saturday night when we were relaxing in amish country in northern Indiana and I read the rest of it last night.

I just thought it was okay. I mean, it was compelling while I read it. And I also recognized that I had a certain familiarity of the topic and the book, generally and specifically, before reading it, so I was reading it for craft issue and trying to see it through fresh eyes. And occasionally, there would be a phrase or a sentence that would make me gasp in how amazing it was. But overall, when I put the book down, my assessment was still "just okay."

What can I say? I'm a novelist.

Every little thing what you did was right but who knows what you did on that day you cried endlessly

I just spent 2 hours cleaning out my closet (cue Eminem song to start playing in my head). Now I have a huge pile of clothes I need to dispose of in some form -- not that I'm unsure of where to donate, but I'm unsure of where the energy to bag or box them and get them out of the kitchen hallway will come from.

I'm currently wearing a baseball cap I came across during the project. Black on black Yankees. I'm not especially a Yankees fan, it was just a souvenir from an early trip to NYC years ago. Along with my scruffy face and tight grey undershirt, I feel a little bit like I'm in straight macho drag. It's kinda hot.

Today I was sporting the GayHouse look. The House part is: casual pants, button-down shirt and suit jacket (no cane, don't worry, I'm not that far gone). The Gay part was: the color/texture combo of shiny black boots, black velveteen blazer, grey cords, blue striped shirt. dommeyourass was impressed and immediately suspicious that I had a date. Unfortunately it was just a trip to the library in Evanston, though I did go to dinner with Miss Rook and it was nice for a change to not feel like the shlubby guy with the hot woman. Though mostly when I go out with her in public, I feel like she can only make me look better.

Mostly I am excited to be wearing something besides the same 4 items of clothing I'd been sporting for weeks, because I was too afraid to dig through the massive piles of laundry spilling all over the office and inside my closet. All of my clothes were clean, just tumbling all over and getting wrinkled. And 1/3 of them I hated and wanted out of my possession, hence tonight's frenzy. It was planned happen this weekend but I couldn't wait any longer. Now I realize I must go shopping for pants. I seem to have only 2 pairs that fit me well. Two that fit tolerably. The rest are jeans that have holes or paint stains on them.

This journal entry is so inane. Can you tell I'm procrastinating on real projects? Suddenly my fashion crises take precedence over everything else in life.