from the vonnegut

I finished Bluebeard today, and it occurred to me that in my last post I may have given it, as well as Jailbird, somewhat too short a shrift (interesting etymology there). I wanted to go on record as saying that they are fine examples of Vonnegut’s style and skill. He always emphasizes the (sad) beauty in life that even a cynic can enjoy, which is probably why his books appeal to me so much. I’m about to start Slapstick, the last (and most officially autobiographical, if that makes any sense) of the three old Vonnegut novels I picked up from a garage sale a few weeks back. After that I’ll probably try to kill the two Anne Rice books I bought on the same occasion – Pandora and Vittorio the Vampire. I'm not staking any claims about their quality, but I've enjoyed one or two of her works before. Still, it's very possible she's completely sucked the genre dry at this point.

I had a pint of draft Live Oak at Papadeaux's the other day. I've had it before but couldn't remember the taste. I'm almost positive it was the pale ale. To me it tasted like a slightly weak Newcastle, which I guess is a good thing.

The very end of the Wire Season 1 finale was awesome. Fuckin' Omar!