So Geoff Ryman one of my favorite SF authors *ever* gave a keynote address here, in Montreal on April 29th 2007. Yep, one day after my birthday last year, my favorite author was in this city, talking about Mundane Science Fiction.

Not that I am like bitter or anything, hells no, blurgh.

I have been reading this book called the "Fireside Book of Dog Stories" (more on that in a separate post later) that was compiled in 1942 or 52, it must have been 52 no-one was compiling fireside books during the war.

Anyways, two or three of the stories in that book are by James Thurber and E.B White.

Anglophone young'uns will recognize the second author. He wrote Charlotte's Web, Stuart Little and the Trumpet of the Swan, among other classic stories. Thurber is known for his cartooning and humour writing in the New Yorker.

I have such a profound admiration for these two writers. They are witty and critical, and what's surprising to a reader of contemporary satire, they are not profoundly negative.

So today, as a reward for buying a piece of clothing that causes me to sing Otto Titsling under my breath involuntarily, I treated myself to some books at the Westmount Library book sale. At the book sale, (and this is why book sales are fun, because you find the weirdest stuff) I found a little book called "Is Sex Necessary" written by none other then my two men of the hour J Thurber and E.B White, in 1929 no less.

There is a big fat wasp flying around my study again. Every year there are wasps in my study in the summer. Last year I squished one in my hair, and stepped on one that was sitting on the floor. Both accidents were fatal to the wasp and left me with bites. Why are there wasps in my apartment??

I am about 90% finished school and work stuff, that once finished will leave me with a full week of not too much to do, of course, I am going to complete that last 10% with the worst cold I have had all year. It doesn't so much seem fair as it seems inevitable. I have what amounts to about 8 hours of work left to do and it's going to take me 4 days.

Anyways, the Telegraph published a list of 50 best cult books. They define cult as "books often found in the pockets of murderers; books that you take very seriously when you are 17; books whose readers can be identified to all with the formula " whacko"; books our children just won’t get…"

I own (or have owned) approximately 4 titles because I actually got(stole from the bookshelves of)them from my parents when I was about 17. Those titles are: The prophet by Kahil Gibran, The Rubiyat of Omar Kiyam, The story of O (which I actually threw out because I was so incredibly digusted by it)Siddartha (in Dutch), and The Teachings of Don Juan. Most of those titles have conveniently disappeared.