Blah, today on the morning train to work I realized I had stopped enjoying James Ellroy's latest, the Cold Six Thousand. There's something missing here. Something his earlier books had that made all the evil stuff in it worth reading. I can't put my finger on it. Maybe it's just me? Maybe I just need something lighter at the moment? I almost never stop reading a book half-way but I think I will with this time.
Right now I'm working on a new Pina Colada song but for Goths.
"Do you like red velvet, and crying in the rain? Smudging your mascara, writing poetry about your pain?..."previous next