Hell yeah, it's shameless self promotion, but's also the first thing I've published anywhere but here in over a year.

Today I spent my lunch break stuck in the elevator--alone--on the ninth floor of my building. I kept wishing I'd brought along something to read, but instead had to content myself with talking to the security guard through the 3-inch gap in the door and trying not to cry.

Oh yeah, somewhere along the line I also finished Educating Waverly by Laura Kalpakian, who you may remember from my review of The Delinquent Virgin...it was educating, but no doubt a chick read. I preferred The Virgin. Then again, don't we all?

Progressive news site TomPaine.com has posted Bill Moyers' speech to the Society of Professional Journalists conference on September 11, 2004, about the place of journalism in democratic society. Read it; it's a lot more interesting than I'm making it sound.

Just finished Crumbtown, by Joe Connelly, author of Bringing Out the Dead, which I know I have written down as a wanna-read on some piece of scrap paper or other. Crumbtown = awesome. It's all about a bank robber who gets released from prison to consult on the set of a TV show about his life.

I am now going to try to get Liam to read it.

There's an art to going to the library on your lunch break. Today I found myself across from the Sears Tower, which, for you non-Chicago types, means right on the corner of Van Buren, about six blocks from the Harold Washington Library, which means I get to visit Harold Washington's Popular Library, the mini-library on the bottom floor for people like me, with no time to make it up to the ninth floor and browse through thousands of fiction choices.

The thing about going to the Popular library is that you can't actually look for anything--you have to let the books find you. Then, if you're lucky, you'll turn around and find two promising choices, like this or this. And you'll get them both, even though they're both hardback and you know you're going to regret it about 12 blocks into your commute home.

Okay, okay, I'm updating already. This is what happens when you combine a band tour with emergency temp work that a) blocks the blogger site and/or b) does not provide said blogger with a computer at all. Bastards.

That said, here are a couple of lists for you, dear readers, if you are still hanging on despite my pathetic update schedule as of late.

Publications read by the band (okay, mostly read by me) on tour Week of August 23

Me:
1. Confessions of a Tax Collector by Richard Yancey: Liam couldn't get into this book. He said he hates to read stories where he hates the main character. I have no problem with that, and I kinda liked Richard in this memoir of a starving wanna-be author who hits bottom and puts his wrists into the golden handcuffs of the IRS. The vignettes of the inner workings of the IRS and the characters are priceless, and I found this story to be fascinating. Who knew?

2. Wigfield, The Can-Do Town That Just May Not by Amy Sedaris, Paul Dinello, Stephen Colbert: While I'll confess that Wigfield is buried under the seat of the band van waiting for me to finish it, this story of a village idiot who tries to save an idiotic village is hilarious. Buy it, read it, and I'll finish it up soon.

Nick:
Playboy Magazine: And let me tell you, gone are the days that you can read Playboy for its articles, now that Maxim's former editor has taken over. What a bunch of mindless garbage. Except for the pictures, of course.

Thom:
The Dirt: Confessions of the World's Most Notorius Rock Band by Tommy Lee, Vince Neil, Motley Crue, Mick Mars, Nikki Sixx, Neil Strauss. I'll put this into perspective. Thom is the guitar player of the band we toured with in Berlin, in town to visit our guitar player (insert hearts here) for the summer, who kindly agreed to come along on tour and run sound for us. The Dirt was a gift to Liam (bass player) for his birthday a few years ago from Nick (drummer). We keep The Dirt in the band van and occasionally read excerpts before tour for motivation, inspiration and hilarity. Now imagine a passage like this one being read aloud in a German accent, and you'll know where I'm going with this.

What I read September 1-10
Going on tour drains you, (and your money, which means you have to spend twice as much time working when you get back) and that's why I'm not at my usual volume yet this month, guys. But that hasn't stopped me from finally reading a classic that people have been recommending to me for years, Betty Smith's A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. (note here: I have linked you to a book review in which the reviewer, Esther A. Lombardi, gives this novel four out of five stars. While the review gives a basic idea of the plot well enough, who is this moron who didn't think this was worth five stars?! And on what basis did she review the literary merits of this fine work? Esther, let's see how many enduring classics that have sold millions of copies you've published lately. My God. That sort of thing inflames me).

Anyhow.

I usually don't like to read classics. I'm all for them, but halfway through I get bored and pick something up a with a more current, fast-paced plot for my MTV-damaged attention span. But I was surprised and delighted to find that Betty Smith kept me engrossed for three days (and three dark days, where I sat reading insurance papers without a computer). This is a fantastic coming-of-age story about young Fancie Nolan, growing up in Brooklyn pre-WWI (note2: I have a secret love for Brooklyn, where my dad grew up, and had just spent a night in tour in Williamsburg).

Anyhow, point it, it's as much a love affair with Williamsburg as it is anything else, and I literally couldn't put it down.