Current Reading

My current reading is Monstrous: The Autobiography of a Serial Killer but for the Grace of God, and I am the author of Monstrous: The Autobiography of a Serial Killer but for the Grace of God.

My fervent dream from back in the day was that I’d one day write a book so all-encompassing that it would render the entire literary body up to that point obsolete, and redundant any future attempt from mankind to put words to paper. I walked through the ghost town that was the whole world and there my book stood in the window of an otherwise empty bookstore, cushioned within pillows the color of royalty purple.

But it looks like the book industry managed to die its thousandth death before I was able to kill it. If you are still a reader you may not be in position to see, that after you’ve exhausted the sides of your cereal boxes and are flailing about for something, anything else to read, that you’re really just getting spooned more of the same because you’re not demanding better. My once voracious self from childhood has since stepped into bookstores and libraries numerous times (numerous because I can’t learn my lesson) only to have his eyes glaze over for there seemingly being nothing to read. Certainly the book I wanted to read didn’t exist for the longest time, either on bookshelves or underneath rocks as near as I could gather, which is why I had to write it myself.

Josh the homeless guy approached my bench three different times during my latest sitting with The Best Book Ever Written. He kept returning in hopes of finding new cigarette butts in the receptacle nearby. At one point he asked what I was reading. “Terrific book” I said, and turned the cover toward him. He said that he had written a book a lot like that himself, when he was in grade school.

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