Oberlin looks beautiful right now. I tried walking to the library today, and my socks are still wet. I'm pretty sure we're looking at almost two feet. In theory, this is a great chance for me to catch up on work. In actuality, this is a great chance for me to not work.
I'm reading Dashiell Hammett's The Maltese Flacon. It's good. And, tonight, reading this smokey yarn (and I think this is the first book that can accurately be described as a "yarn," or not...) and looking outside at the blizzard seems pretty close to perfect.
Lastly, I want to say a few words about Local. It's an unorthodox but somehow cohesive story set in a different local each issue. It's a quick read, but a good one. For anyone who has ever wanted to just leave, for anyone who, when driving down the highway, thought about just leaving, this is a book for you.
As a proud Murderopolite, issue two has a lot of significance for me. Each issue is painstakingly researched. The names of the bands on the CDs (Selby Tigers, Tapes n Tapes, what have you) in the apartment correctly place above a corner-store (Hum's Liquor) correctly named and placed across the street from the correctly named and placed diner (Muddy Waters), et cetera, et cetera. It's pretty amazing. Minneapolis, Portland, Missoula, Park Slope, Tempe, Wicker Park, Austin, Norman, and many many more.
Go check it out.
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