I keep re-reading a lot of the same pages over and over.  Partly because I pick up on stuff the second time through more often with DFW than other writers -more on similar thoughts later- but mainly because I don’t want to rush through things. 

Also, reading on the subway isn’t conducive to that few paragraph breaks so you gotta pick up and start back wherever feels right. 

Still sad, but maybe that’s because itunes tricked me into buying an episode of Sons of Anarchy I’d already seen because they can’t bother to list episode numbers or even arrange episodes chronologically in their store.

Finished the editor’s note while waiting on a download.  So far it looks like this blog will be full of boring useless details like the one above.  Maybe sometimes I’ll actually say something interesting, but probably not. 

I promise I’ll try and hold off on simply remarking about the book making me sad though.  That could get pretty old; I’m doubting I’m the only person to get sad when he thinks about how another person is dead and how some things might have been different or turned out in some slightly different form were that not the case.

Started reading while waiting on my Peruvian chicken at the restaurant.  The lady behind the counter gave me a glass of wine while I waited. 

So far I’ve just been kinda sad.

But then I haven’t even read any of the actual book yet.